


Like Cats and Dogs

by Mikey (mikes_grrl)



Category: due South
Genre: Angst, Multi, OT3, Romance, pet!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-24
Updated: 2010-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikes_grrl/pseuds/Mikey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser faces down some upheavals in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written during the last weeks of December 2008, was much shorter, and much worse too. But Nos kicked back hard and many changes were made and here it is, my F/K/V not-epic. The origin of it was some squee-filled comments Nos and I had going about the adorableness of Kowalski getting a dog, and I thought that little bunny was good for at least a couple of thousand words. *head!desk* So, uh, yeah: Kowalski gets a dog. As for Ray/Ray naming conventions: this is from Fraser’s POV, and I imagine he knows which Ray he’s thinking about when he’s thinking about either of them, so I do not use last-name clues to indicate which Ray is being described/discussed/spoken to, unless absolutely necessary (i.e. wherever Nos wrote a note going “which Ray?”). Therefore it might get confusing at points, but I really tried to make it clear which Ray is which without making Fraser sound like a dummy.
> 
> **CREDITS**: Thank you Nos for your wonderful, painstaking, thorough, and incredibly wonderful beta. Without you this story would have been only 15k words long a travesty. :)
> 
> **WARNING**: Possibly upsetting (but generally non-graphic) ref. to the evil, evil underground dog fighting “industry”, so if you are a sensitive soul, it might upset you. No real spoilers, but set after CoTW so keep that in mind.

They were ten minutes too late. Ten minutes – not even a coffee break, almost as long as some of the more torturous stop lights in the city, according to both Rays. Ten minutes and the blood that spilled across the floor and dripped from the railing of the makeshift ‘fence’ served as testament to their failure. Two lives gone, both violently, both needlessly. Fraser stood over the tarp covered bodies as sentry and witness.

“Good thing we left Dief behind.” Ray came up next to him, ironically the calmest person in the chaos of the warehouse. Around them police officers were tearing the place apart for evidence of other crimes, and dogs barked angrily from their crates on the other side of the room. Ray sighed, his head dipping, his blond spikes luminescent in the cheap florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. “Kaplan didn’t have a choice, Frase,” he said quietly.

Fraser nodded, knowing it was true. “Blood lust. He was insane with it.” He spoke in agreement and confirmation.

“Kaplan?” Ray frowned.

“No, Z-Boy.”

“The dog?”

“Yes.”

“Trust you to know his name already.”

Fraser waved a dismissive hand towards the chalkboard hanging from one of the steel support columns. On it was written the names of the last contestants, a heavy weight bruiser named Chrysler and the new challenger, Z-Boy. Both Rottweilers, both listed as 115 pounds.

“They were declaring Z-Boy the winner as we came in.”

“So, uh, Chrysler was already…”

“Yes. Bleeding out, or close to it in any case.” Fraser turned to look at Ray, feeling old and useless. “I know Officer Kaplan had no choice but to shoot him, Ray. Amidst all the chaos of the raid, there was no telling what Z-Boy might have done, had he not been…stopped.”

“We got the others, Frase. They’re not going to be used for fighting any more, okay? We lost two but there are least twenty dogs over there we saved.” Ray pointed, but Fraser shook his head.

“No, Ray, we’ve doomed them as surely as these two here.”

Ray frowned, thinking, and Fraser was grateful for his intellectual agility – not as swift as his vocabulary, but far more trustworthy. “Shit. They’re going to have to put them down.”

Fraser nodded again, turned, and left the building without speaking to another soul. Ten minutes late but it hardly mattered; every dog in the building was as good as dead. Fraser walked the many blocks to their apartment, wondering how in the hell he was going to explain this case to Diefenbaker.

\-----------------

After Muldoon, and the Quest, and finding Franklin’s crew, and the television interviews and the book deal, Fraser was approached by the RCMP and given carte blanche. He was their poster boy now, and in a quiet phone call to Meg Thatcher he asked her what exactly that meant. His former superior officer understood the politics much better than he did. They were cautious friends now, a privilege Fraser did not want to abuse, but he truly had no idea what the RCMP expected of him now.

“They expect you to play along. Ask for a promotion, the usual. And you can, Fraser, you can ask for _anything_ now and they will give it to you. So you need to be sure you ask for what you really want.”

“I am not particularly keen on a promotion.”

“Understood. I imagine you hoped to retire out as a constable in some remote posting.”

“The thought had crossed my mind. I deemed it…suitable. Once.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

Fraser paused, because her simple question made his answer concrete, and real, and unavoidable. “Thank you, Meg.”

“My pleasure, Ben. Remember to write.”

So Fraser went and asked for the promotion he did not want, and the posting he knew he would hate, because it was the only way he was going to get what he really needed: Chicago, and Ray Kowalski. Ray Vecchio was in Florida and whatever combination of events that lead to Fraser losing his first Ray – and Fraser was not entirely certain it was inevitable, although he could not figure out what he could have done differently, even in retrospect – he was determined not to lose anyone else to the vagaries of circumstance. Not if he could help it.

He demanded the directorship of the Chicago consulate, and after a minor and behind-closed-doors uproar in Ottawa (Thatcher informed him about that, chuckling with an evil note to her voice, and Fraser did not ask for details), he got it. They leapfrogged him to Inspector and forced him to do a major public relations campaign about his promotion, and it cost him his ‘liaison’ status with the Chicago Police. But he got a stipend for ‘hard ship duty’ which paid for the overly large three-bedroom apartment (“You need an office, Frase” “On the contrary, Ray, I think you need a dumpster”) he now shared with Ray. They were talking of retiring to Canada in fifteen years, which Fraser considered a fair exchange, and they planned to spend their vacations in Inuvik (despite Ray sounding very much like Ray Vecchio in his complaints about it).

Dief was mostly pleased that his pizza allowance went uninterrupted.

But today, with the arrest of the dog fighting ring, and the certain doom of the dogs, Fraser was not particularly happy with Chicago. The only reason he was directly involved at all, given his exalted status, was that one of the organizers was a Canadian citizen who had been sneaking fighting dogs back and forth across the border. Knowing in part what they would find in the raid, Fraser left Diefenbaker locked up in the apartment, risking the possibility of a spilled bladder over the chance of Dief following them and proceeding to attack the dog handlers under arrest. Which, Fraser sighed as he unlocked the door, was a decision he might come to regret. He tried not to indulge his more vengeful nature, but those criminals probably deserved a good throat ripping. He hastily stashed that thought away, unseemly and uncivilized as it was.

“We stopped the malfeasants, for which you should be pleased.” Fraser intoned as he explained the situation to Diefenbaker, who was not pleased at all. “I know, and I regret that we were unable to break up the dog fighting business earlier. But…you must understand, Diefenbaker, that those dogs will all be put down.”

The wolf sat down, affronted.

“They are trained fighting dogs. Trained and bred for aggressiveness, trained to _kill_. They cannot simply be adopted out.”

Dief whined.

“While in theory that is an excellent idea, I’m afraid they are hardly suited for living in the wilds…they are used to being fed and cared for, and would not survive long. In any case, I doubt the Chicago authorities would want it known they released a pack of trained killer dogs into the woods.”

More whining.

“Very noble of you, but I don’t think they would accept your offer to teach them to hunt. No…stop it, Diefenbaker. There is simply nothing we can do, other than take refuge in the knowledge that we have stopped the dog fights for now, and saved the puppies who were in line to be trained up next.”

Dief stomped out of the room, probably to go soil the bed linens to show his displeasure (he was sadly predictable in some ways), but Fraser did not have the heart to stop him. He would simply change out the sheets before Ray got home, and be thankful for the rubber mattress cover that was so reliable at keeping a variety of bodily fluids at bay.

When Ray got home he was subdued and depressed, and Fraser no better. There were times when innocents died on the cross of others’ sins, and even police officers had to stand by in helpless grief. Fraser fixed a simple dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches (one of Ray’s genuine comfort foods), and they sat eating with the television off.

“You changed the bed sheets out early.” Ray said listlessly.

“Ah. Well. Yes, it seems Diefenbaker took issue with the resolution of the case and…”

“Oh.” Ray kept chewing.

It was a quiet, restless night. Fraser left the bedroom door open so Diefenbaker could hear them make love – or even spy in, which bothered Ray tremendously but always gave Diefenbaker a sense of comfort and belonging. Fraser kept Ray distracted from the open door as best he could, loving his with his mouth and tongue until Ray simply rolled over wordlessly and let Fraser take him, pushing into his body forcefully and mercilessly, allowing them both the release of emotional and physical obliteration, if only for a moment. They slept deeply, and Fraser was not surprised to wake up later with Dief twined between their legs, his heavy head on Ray’s hip. Fraser stopped himself from ordering Dief off the bed, instead running his hand over Dief’s head and scratching at his neck.

“I’m sorry.”

Dief whuffed in understanding and closed his eyes again.

\----------------

The following day it was back to Consulate business for Fraser, who had several dignitaries due in the following week from Taiwan. With some polishing and no little amount of bullying, Fraser had groomed Turnbull over the past year to an acceptable level of usefulness, in no small part through Ray’s urging. That Ray seemed hell-bent on matching up the younger Mountie with a still-Mountie-enamored (yet very pregnant) Francesca Vecchio was only part of Ray’s plans, Fraser was certain, but he dared not look a gift horse in the mouth. He did wonder, though, that if – as Ray claimed – ‘consulate duty’ was the acme of ‘husband training’, what exactly that meant for Fraser himself.

Dief certainly had his own opinions, which Fraser refused to humor.

“We are not getting any puppies, and you must stop this ridiculous campaign.”

“But sir, the pitter patter of little feet? The adoring eyes, looking to you for guidance and affection? Certainly we can sacrifice our own comforts for the sake of the next generation.” Turnbull pleaded Dief’s case, leaning in over the desk with his own puppy-dog eyes wide with sincerity while Dief sat at Fraser’s side, his head propped adoringly on Fraser’s knee.

“No. Both of you, out. I have far too many forms to complete and the caterer…”

“Sir, please…”

“Constable Turnbull, you are dismissed. And take…HIM with you.” Fraser pushed Dief away and they growled at each other. “No, absolutely not. I don’t care about your biological clock, it has been ticking away healthily for years. Need I remind you that you are the proud father of five, count them, _five_ litters. Any more and…” Fraser motioned his fingers to mimic a pair of scissors, and Dief fled from the room.

“Whoa there! Hey boy, what…? Turnbull?” Ray stood to the side of the door to avoid being trampled by the retreating dog and Mountie. “Hey, what’d you say to them?”

“I threatened castration.”

Ray’s hands moved to cover his crotch. “Jesus, don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry, Ray. Not you, of course.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ray nodded but kept his hands in front of himself and approached the desk warily.

“So what brings you by today? Any problems processing McGuire?”

“Nah. In fact I just came by to drop off the forms you need to request extradition.” He moved one hand to awkwardly pull crumpled paperwork out of his jacket.

“Really, Ray, I have no intention of castrating anyone today.” Fraser sighed, and Ray moved his other hand away from his lap slowly and cautiously. He stood there, and something about his manner set off alarm bells in Fraser’s mind. “Ray? Why are you here?”

“I just called to say I love you?”

“That’s a terrible song.”

“Glad you said so. I’d hate to divorce you over something like that.”

“Given that we are not legally married, it might prove difficult anyway.”

“I visited the dogs.” Ray spilled the words out quickly, shuffling up to the desk and studying the stapler for signs of life, his hand stuffed into his pockets in a failed attempt to keep still.

Fraser’s smiled faded. “Ray, don’t torture yourself. There’s nothing we can do.”

“I know that. I know that, I do know that.” Ray nodded, and chewed his lower lip. “But, you know, I thought…just, no one has ever been nice to them, you know? So I thought I’d stop by, say hi, just…be friendly.”

Fraser did not like where this was going. “And?”

“They’re lost causes, Frase. You were right. They are…they aren’t even _dogs_ anymore.” Ray tapped the desk, and Fraser considered pointing out that biologically, of course they were still dogs, but he thought better of it. He knew what Ray was trying to say.

“They’ve lived corrupted and brutal lives. It is a tragedy, but there is nothing we can do.”

“Yeah…” Ray stood up straighter. “Well, there was this one, this rottie bitch, get this: named _Daisy_. Who the fuck names a fighting dog _Daisy_?”

“I…don’t know. It does seem incongruous.”

“Uh, yeah. That.” Ray nodded, looking out the window behind Fraser. “She was polite, smart. You could see it in her eyes, like Dief: she knows what’s going on. She gets it.”

“Still…”

“She’s got this scar, on her back leg. They say it is from a fight but I don’t know, I don’t buy it. Not a claw mark. Just…she laid there looking up at me. She didn’t expect anything from me, didn’t hate me, wasn’t scared. Just looked at me like she understood. And I…I…” Ray waved his hands and Fraser was out of his chair, coming around to pull Ray into a hug. Ray clung to him, not crying—not yet, at least—but breathing deeply, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He was obviously shaken by Daisy’s plight, and Fraser couldn’t help thinking of the Botrelle case and Ray’s helpless, endless self-recriminations.

“I’m sorry, Ray. I’m so sorry.”

Ray nodded, bobbing a bit in Fraser’s arms, then pushed back and tried to look tough. Fraser had privately started calling it Ray’s ‘McQueen Posture’ – slouched, hips canted, head held high but looking off to the side. He pursed his lips and sniffed. “I guess I tried, right?”

“That you went at all is a testament to…”

“Yeah, right. I tried.”

Fraser shook his head. “It is a tragedy. Even Dief was shaken.”

“Hey, where did he go? Did he just leave?” Ray took advantage of the change in conversation and looked around.

“He demanded a personal day. I believe he wanted to spend some quality time with various canine companions…” Fraser helplessly waved a hand around, trying to relate both his understanding of Dief’s unhappiness and his own displeasure with the wolf’s cavalier attitude to the job. Not that Dief wore the serge or could even grasp the idea of an oath of office, but it did gall Fraser sometimes when Dief just refused to show.

“Yeah, I get that. I get that…you know, you could stop being jealous of the wolf and take a day off yourself.”

“I am not jealous, I am fully understanding and supportive…”

“Right. Tell me you did not put him on diet kibble for the rest of the week.” Ray smiled, and Fraser was willing to take any hit to his pride to see that.

“The circumstances are not related.” Fraser huffed, playing for the straight-laced attitude that Ray usually enjoyed poking at.

“Sure, Frase.” Ray laughed lightly, despite the shadow in his eyes. Fraser realized his mood was not going to lift any time soon, but accepted the small success he could grab. “Hey, I gotta go, okay?”

“Of course Ray. Pass my regards on to Welsh.”

“No can do, buddy, he’s still pissed you aren’t liaison anymore, even if he refuses to admit it.” Ray laughed again and sauntered out. Fraser watched him go, wondering what on earth he could arrange to make Ray feel better about the dog case, and coming up with nothing. Eventually he sat back down at his desk and began mindlessly shuffled the paperwork that never disappeared. When the phone rang he answered without looking up from the form in front of him. Turnbull learned a long time ago only to transfer in the most important calls, which usually meant either Ray or Ottawa.

“Inspector Benton Fraser, Consulate Director. May I help you?”

“Benny?”

Fraser looked up, feeling his controlled reserve smashing apart. “Ray?”

“Good to hear your voice. Been…it’s been a while.”

“Over a year.” More accurately, 17 months, one week and five days since Ray had told him to ‘go get his man,’ but Fraser did not think Ray would appreciate the clarification.

“Yeah. Long time.”

“Yes.”

“Benny…I…you busy?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, I’m always busy, but I’m more than happy to set some time aside for…Ray? Is something wrong?” Fraser exhaled and leaned forward in his chair, figuring something was wrong, and fearing it was mob related. He had already started calculating the fastest route to Florida before Ray spoke again.

“Why else would I call, right? Only if something was wrong.” Ray sounded angry, and Fraser back peddled instinctively.

“Well, no, of course not. We’re friends, and friends call…”

“No, you got it right the first time. Something’s wrong.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, ‘ah.’ Some things never change, I guess. ‘Ah.’”

“Ray…”

“I’m getting divorced. I hate that damn bowling alley, I hate Florida, I’m a walking piece of Italian toast down here. I’ve had a sunburn every day for a year now, that’s just from driving the car to the shop and back. Jesus Christ, I’ve been miserable, and it’s not Stella’s fault, okay? It’s me, it’s my fault, I should never have married her right out of being undercover for so long. Someone should have stopped me, I needed someone to slap some sense into me and I just made this stupid mistake…”

“And I wasn’t there for you.” Fraser breathed out, the familiar disappointment spreading through his chest and heart. “I’m so sorry, Ray.”

There was a long pause, and finally he heard Ray sigh. “Yeah. But, you got your own life and…Stanley. I get that. I just…dammit.”

He did not bother correcting him about Ray’s name. He could feel Ray’s desperation and confusion through the phone line.

“Ray, I am your friend and partner, always. A lot has happened over the last few years, but I’m…here for you. Please. If you need help, just tell me.”

“I need help, Benny. I really need some help, here.” His voice cracked with the weight of exhaustion and stress.

“Anything, Ray. Anything.”

\-----------------------

“WHAT?”

“He’s my friend, Ray, and…”

“You two haven’t talked in almost two years!”

“Nonetheless, we…”

“He DUMPED you!”

Fraser closed his mouth and opened it again, feeling like a guppy fish. “No, he did not. We were never involved in such a way that he could ‘dump’ me, as you say. It was never like that.”

“The hell it wasn’t!”

“I assure you it wasn’t. We are friends.” Fraser briefly closed his eyes at the memory of that friendship, which he had for so long wished was something more, and for so long resigned himself to fact that it was simply never meant to be otherwise.

“Bullshit.”

“Ray, I do not appreciate the insinuation that I am lying to you. I…”

“You talk about him as much as you talk about Victoria.” Ray spun in the middle of the living room and pointed an accusing finger at Fraser. “And when you do, when you talk about either of them, you get that same fucking look on your face. So don’t tell me, don’t even TRY to tell me, it wasn’t ‘like that’!”

Fraser stalled, the truth of Ray’s accusation hitting him like a hammer. He sat down and rubbed his hands together while Ray paced the room, boiling with fury. Finally Fraser took a deep, calming breath. “It really wasn’t like that, you know. I loved Victoria, and she betrayed me, tried to ruin and destroy me. Yes, I loved…I loved Ray Vecchio.” Fraser paused and stood up, walking over to look out the window. He had put his love for Ray Vecchio behind him, or he had tried, but clearly he was not as successful as he hoped. It was disappointing to know that he was so transparent, that he was only feeding into Ray’s insecurities. “But as you perhaps might have noticed, as he married your ex-wife, he is heterosexual. Determinedly so. And as a result, my affections would be…unwelcome. I never told Ray how I felt. A wise decision, I think.”

Ray flopped onto the couch, a miserable expression on his face. Fraser walked over, going to his knees in between Ray’s legs. “I love them still, even as you still love Stella. She is a part of you and you treasure that, and I understand. So please understand my love for them – it is the love of lost opportunities, of what might have been. But HERE, here I am yours. As I hope you are mine.”

Ray looked up at him, tired and sad. “Sap. You are a big girly sap, Ben.”

“Yes.” Fraser nodded solemnly.

Ray gave him a weary smile but raised his hand to cup his face. Fraser leaned into the touch, closing his eyes, and they remained there until Dief started fussing about dinner.

That night, Fraser closed the bedroom door for their lovemaking, and let Ray determine their actions and pace – it was predictably frenetic, although surprising quiet. Ray settled on frottage eventually, but left off his usual litany of curses and exclamations, and Fraser did not ask about it afterwards. Ray left early in the morning, long before he was due at work, but Fraser did not ask about that either. He simply got up, packed his bag, and took a taxi to the airport.

\----------

“He’s beautiful, Ray.”

“Yeah. He’s just the best cat ever.” Ray beamed like a proud father as the Maine Coon butted his head against Fraser’s hiking boots. “He was a runt, so the breeders dropped him off at the emergency clinic. Better than drowning him, I guess. Anyway Tony, the kid you saw at the front counter? Works there on the weekends. I talked about getting a cat and next thing I know, I got this little furball rolling around on my desk.” Ray’s smile could have lit up Chicago, and Fraser smiled back and tried not to grunt as the cat sat on his foot. The runt of the litter, perhaps, but ‘the little furball’ was at least twenty pounds now. Fraser was grateful for the steel toe cap on his boots. The cat looked up at him with narrowed green eyes. Warily, Fraser nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting.

“Smart too. Smart as Dief, I bet. That cat can read, I swear to you.”

“Really? That would be most…unusual.”

“Yeah, but I’m telling you, he likes the comics. Especially that one, _Get Fuzzy_? Loves it.”

“Ah. And his name…?”

“Mack.”

“Mack? Like the truck?”

“Nah. For Machiavelli.” Ray grinned.

“Oh.” Fraser looked back down at the cat on his foot. “Greetings, Machiavelli. May I have my foot back?”

Surprisingly, the cat promptly got up and wandered towards Ray’s feet. The breed was known for its larger-than-average size and for its beautiful long-hair coat, and Machiavelli was no exception. He was a gorgeous cat, mostly dark tan with a white mane and stripes of black low-lights down his back and rear legs, but with a bright splash of ginger across the right side of his face.

“I suppose you’re getting him in the divorce.”

“Yeah. And not much else.” Ray sighed.

“Is there a disagreement about the settlement?” Fraser asked, trying to be tactful, but hoping that Ray was not simply giving up and allowing Stella to have everything.

“Not really. And you think the cat’s got claws? You ain’t seen Stella in action. No, I’m taking what she gives me and running back home.”

“I’m glad you asked me to help you.” Fraser watched Ray carefully as he paced, reminded of all the times he watched him at the 2-7 or in his apartment on Racine, cataloguing Ray’s smooth stride and easy grace. He was still a very attractive man.

Fraser realized he was staring and looked around for the cat in order to distract himself. It had been a very long time since he had warred with temptation, and he was not quite prepared to do so now.

“Not much to help with, honestly, not taking the furniture or anything. My wardrobe, my computer, some odds and ends. If I’m moving back in with Ma…I don’t need much.” Ray’s voice faltered a bit and he sat down on the flowery, pastel-colored couch. The house was nicely decorated in what might loosely be called a Caribbean theme, but Ray simply looked out of place in it. Machiavelli gracefully leapt up and insinuated himself on Ray’s lap, and Fraser tried unsuccessfully not to think about Bond villains as Ray lovingly stroked the cat’s fur.

“Still, I’m glad you asked.”

Ray looked up at him, his green eyes sparkling with emotion. “I needed a friend. You’re about all I got. And I haven’t treated you right…for a while.” He focused back on the cat.

“Please don’t say that, Ray. We’ve both…had our reasons.”

“Yours is better than mine.”

“Not really. I understand that my taking up with another man came as quite a shock to you, and you had just come out of a long and emotionally distressing undercover mission, not to mention getting shot, and…that the man in question was, so to speak, your…replacement.”

“Don’t think the irony of that doesn’t kill me every day,” Ray said with a sardonic smile, and Fraser felt himself grinning foolishly.

“It does seem ironic.”

“Not to mention unfair,” Ray muttered, looking down, and Fraser faltered.

“What?”

“Nothing, Benny, just saying…loads of irony, here. Loads.”

“Of course.”

“Look, I have to tell you…Stella? She won’t like you being here.”

Fraser sat down across from him. “Is that why you asked me to come?”

Ray started, and the cat jumped down with a grumble. “Sorry, Mack, sorry.” Ray reached down to pat the cat’s head in apology and turned to Fraser, his face a mask. “No. I asked you because you are my _friend_. You got that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Okay.” The mask slipped and Ray leaned back on the couch, studying Fraser. “Maybe my motives aren’t too pure. I guess I got to be honest about that. But no, I need you here as a friend, and I mean that.”

“Thank you. But what do you mean about your motives?”

“Ahhh…hell, Benny. This marriage was doomed from the start, okay? I want you to understand that. But I didn’t know it, not for a long time. Not until I starting cheating on Stella.”

Fraser sat back, stunned. “Ray…”

“I know, look, I know. It’s not something I’d do…I never cheated on Ange, or on anyone else I was with. Believe me, I judge myself worse than you do. But that’s how I knew, that was my wake up call. Hello? Cheating on the woman you supposedly love? Something’s wrong.”

Fraser sat quietly, unable to argue that point, and still disappointed that Ray would sink so low.

“Yeah, I can hear you thinking from here, Benny.” Ray sighed.

“So my being here is to assure her that you are not leaving her for another woman.”

“Um, no.”

“Oh.” Fraser frowned, confused.

“Okay, partly. Partly to convince her that I’m not leaving her for anyone else. She doesn’t like you much, but she knows you’d never cheat on Kowalski. She told me so. You’re here because you are the only person I could ask to be here that she wouldn’t accuse me of fucking around with.”

Fraser nodded as if that made sense, then stood up abruptly, feeling himself start to shake. “Ray…Ray….”

Ray looked up from the couch, exhaustion written clearly on his face. “Yeah, Benny. Go ahead and ask.”

“The…person…you cheated on Stella with. The…person…” Fraser felt himself faltering again, and unable to look at Ray. He fell into parade rest and stared at the wall, instinct taking over.

“Jesus, look at you. Can’t even ask me. Okay, the person, who was actually three persons, two of whom were guys. Guys of the male persuasion, okay?” Ray closed his eyes. “I know you won’t judge me for _that_, anyway.”

Fraser remained at rest, trying to think. “Were you…always?”

“Just quit tiptoeing around the subject, why don’t you? Jesus.” Ray rubbed his face, keeping his eyes closed. “Ray Vecchio 101: yeah, I fooled around with guys as a kid. Just a few times. Then I decided to become a cop, and being queer, or half-queer? Not an option. Like giving up chocolate for Lent, right? Not easy, but once you do, you don’t think about it anymore. Then…”

Fraser waited for his name, waited for confirmation, waited for what he needed and what he feared, but it never came.

“Vegas. It messed me up, and believe me, Armando was one crazy motherfucker. Coke parties, orgies, boys, girls…I drew the line with the underage ones, managed to make it sound like Manny found God a little bit after the ‘accident’, but I could only push that angle so far. I lost count, Benny. Christ, _I lost count_ of how many people I fucked. You been with, what? Three people? Four, maybe? My list was hanging steady at sixteen, fifteen of whom were women, when I went to Vegas. Busted that many nuts the first week I was there. Always wore a condom, always played safe, but damnit…at some point something snaps and it doesn’t even _matter_ anymore. It’s just like…eating fast food. Empty calories, empty fucks. I mean I get how hookers do it now, because…I get it.”

Fraser realized he was staring at Ray with his mouth open. He pulled himself together and made himself sit down on the couch. Mack jumped back up and lay down between them, as if trying to protect Ray, and glared at Fraser over his shoulder.

“He is my friend, and I am here to comfort him,” Fraser said to the cat, realizing he was over-enunciating as if talking to Dief, as if every animal who could understand him was half-deaf. He shook his head and turned to Ray, putting a hand out to rub his shoulder.

“I had no idea.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. It was…messed up. I did worse, Benny, things I will never tell a living soul about, not even in confession. The sex was just fallout. Something I did to pass the time, and I didn’t realize what it was doing to me until it was too late” He looked up. “The Feds paid me. They _paid_ me, and I wonder if I just got so used to being a whore that I can’t stop acting like one now.” Ray hugged himself, looked out the window to the perfectly manicured lawn.

“You aren’t, Ray. You were doing your duty, and the FBI is at fault for putting you into that corrupted, soulless place. You did you best, under the circumstances.” Fraser tried to imagine a job where ‘your best’ included large quantities of mindless, drug-addled sex with people you did not even know, and failed.

“Yeah. I did my best, and we took down one of the largest crime syndicates in the West. I did my best, Benny, and…here I am, divorcing the best woman I ever met because I can’t keep my dick in my pants.” Ray laughed, but it was an empty sound.

“Is that really why?”

“Hell no.” Vecchio rubbed his neck, obviously trying to think it out. “The cheating is just, well…fallout. The symptom, not the disease.”

“Very astute observation.”

“Sure, astute as all hell. That’s me.”

“So what is the ‘disease’, then?”

“Losing myself, Benny. I forgot who I was, and now I’m not sure I know who I am.”

Fraser had no answer or solution to that, so simply kept rubbing his shoulder. Finally Ray relaxed and Mack relaxed in tune with him, and Fraser sighed in relief.

“Ray, I’m so sorry. I can’t judge you…I don’t approve of you cheating on your wife, of course, but…I think I understand.”

“Nah, you don’t understand. But hey, I appreciate you trying.” Ray grinned at him, a lazy, beautiful grin, his eyes dark green from emotions and stress and Fraser thought he looked like a Roman lord at his ease, majestic and brilliant and sly and elegant. Fraser leaned forward and moved his hand up Ray’s shoulder to his neck, rubbing his thumb over Ray’s jaw. Ray turned and looked at him, stunned.

“Benny…” Ray froze, and Fraser froze, and Mack hissed. Fraser bounced up off the couch while Ray stared at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I…”

Ray had not moved, but his eyes narrowed shrewdly in a look Fraser had never seen before. “That what you want, Benny? Cause I got that.”

Fraser’s sense of shame dropped into a state of horror. He did not know this man on the couch. At all. To even offer such a thing was far beyond any concept he had of who Ray Vecchio was. His expression must have shown, because the man blinked and suddenly Ray was back.

“Forget it, Benny. I mean that. Forget it.”

“Ray, I…”

“I need you, Benny. I need a _friend_. Don’t ask this of me. Because I’d do it, I would, and…”

“I…I can’t.”

The look was back in a flash. “That’s right, because you’re a better man than I am. I forgot that about you.” Fraser realized that this was an aspect of Armando, the cold expression and the lifeless eyes. Ray was shutting him out.

Even so, Fraser felt his anger rising, as usual at the most inopportune time. “I would never suggest that. I don’t believe that. Your problems are greater than simply cheating on your wife. This isn’t who you ARE.” Fraser spun to look out over the lawn again, which upon closer inspection looked overly manicured and ridiculous. All that was missing was a plastic pink flamingo, and at this point Fraser felt like planting one into the damn ground himself. How could Ray have let his life become _this_?

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Ray sighed behind him.

Fraser turned to look at him, and was nearly overcome by the sight Ray’s emotional devastation, written on his exhausted body and face, and Fraser cursed himself for crossing that line. “Ray. I’m sorry, my actions were…well, not appropriate, in any case.”

Ray looked up, unsmiling, but Armando was not there either and Fraser took his victories where he could.

“Makes two of us, Benny.” He frowned, and then seemed to rouse himself. “Let’s just move on, okay? Get some dinner and figure out how we are getting back to Chicago.” Ray stood up in a fluid motion and walked out of the room, Mack on his heels. The cat glared at Fraser with every step.

\--------------

“Ray, things are…complicated.”

“Yeah? What’s so complicated about Stella dumping his ass? Believe me, I know exactly how simple that can be.”

“It’s my understanding that the dumping is mutual, in this case.”

“Hey…he do anything? He hurt her?”

Fraser could hear the defensive, protective posture over the phone. “Whatever happened is between them, Ray.”

“Okay. Okay, fine. When are you coming home?”

“We are planning to head out on….Ray? Where are you?”

“Nowhere, I’m nowhere. Just…out. Okay?”

“I hear dogs. Are you at the vet? Is Diefenbaker alright?”

“He’s fine, and we are not at the vet. Here. Woof or something, Frase thinks I got you sick.” Ray’s voice went distant and Fraser thought he heard ‘and no telling or you won’t see pizza for a month’ before a familiar woofing-bark came over the phone, reassuring him of Diefenbaker’s good health. “Okay? You heard that? He’s fine, he told you he’s fine, right?”

“Yes, he did. Thank you.”

“So…when are you coming home?”

“As I was saying, we’ll be leaving here on Monday, as traffic will be less hectic for the drive back.”

There was a very long pause, and Fraser held his breath, knowing full well the game he was playing with Ray. “Monday? Traffic? …‘We’? Shit, wait, Ben…you and Vecchio are driving back together?”

“Yes, we are. Ray doesn’t have a lot to pack, and it can fit easily into the trunk and the back seat of his car. We plan on coming into Chicago sometime late Wednesday…Thursday at the latest.”

There was another long pause, and Fraser waited for the outburst of jealous denial and rage, and ordered his thoughts accordingly. He heard Ray snort and held his breath.

“Cool. That’s cool. Just keep me posted. Hey, Vecchio’s got a cell phone, right? What’s that number?”

Stunned, Fraser had no answer.

“Frase? Fraser. Fraser. FRASER!”

“What? Oh, sorry, yes, Ray’s phone number, ah…” He gave it, and they hung up, and immediately Fraser called the 2-7 and asked for Lieutenant Welsh, because something was going on and he needed to find out what.

“Ah, Constable. Thank you. Glad you returned my call so promptly.”

Fraser blinked, and nodded at the wall, and finally recovered. “Certainly, sir. Always…available for you. Sir.” Fraser tried not to sound as confused as he felt.

“Yes, well, given Detective Kowalski’s mood, I was uncertain as to whether he would pass the message along.”

“His mood, sir?”

“Yeah, that _mood_ he gets into when he thinks he’s right and decides to make my life difficult.”

“Ah, that mood. Yes sir.”

“So you are going to talk to him about this?”

“About his mood?”

“No, about what he thinks he’s doing with those dogs.”

“Those…dogs…” Fraser trailed, hoping to catch up.

“The impounded dogs? From the dog-fighting bust?” Welsh’s words were slow and patient, but the tone of his voice was not.

“Oh, I was unaware of any involvement on his part. I know he visited them…”

“He visited them, he’s talked to the press about them, he’s going to get on _Oprah_ next if this keeps up. I’ve already had to put a formal reprimand in his file for going to the press outside of the CPD’s PR department. He is not supposed to be talking to reporters. I do not want to keep filling his file with negative paperwork, Constab…Inspector. He’s a good officer, and a fine detective, so would you please tell him to leave the dog thing alone?”

“I’ll try, sir.”

“Good. One more thing, Con…Inspector.”

“Yes sir?” Fraser felt the onset of a headache.

“Francesca stopped by for a little talk. So tell Vecchio that if he wants his old job back, he’s already a week late.”

“Yes. Sir.” With a final, “Thank you, sir,” Fraser hung up. He knew he should call Ray back, but in truth (and he knew this shamefully well) he was a coward. He simply did not want to know what Ray was doing to save those poor, miserable souls. He figured Ray knew better than attempt to ‘break them out’, given their vicious natures which even he had admitted to, but that was small comfort. Ray was already testy with him about his visiting Ray, however, and as Fraser reminded himself: he was most certainly a coward.

\--------------------

“So he didn’t give you shit about this?” Ray asked as they got into the car. They were headed off to dinner at an Italian restaurant Ray favored (“It ain’t Ma, but the minestrone isn’t bad”) before Stella came home from her law practice.

“No, actually…surprisingly, no.” Fraser fiddled with the vents, never imaging before in his life that he would be so grateful for air conditioning in _February_.

“YOU going to give me shit about this?” Ray turned to look directly at him.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Fraser tried to think back to any point where he might have complained about driving back, or having Italian for dinner.

“Us, together. Sharing hotel rooms. Won’t Kowalski get suspicious?”

“As far as he knows, Ray, you are 100% heterosexual. He certainly won’t find out any different from me. And no, I have no problem sharing a hotel room with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. I know you. You’re a gentleman.” Fraser smiled, and Ray barked out laughing.

“Hey, I’m glad one of us thinks so!” He snickered and put the gar in gear.

The weekend was spent sorting and packing and avoiding Stella, who stayed out of the house for the most part anyway. At one point Fraser found himself in the garage with a box of clothes Ray was giving to charity when she pulled her Lexus up and got out.

“Constable.”

“It’s Inspector now, Mrs. Vecchio.”

She twitched at the name, and Fraser saw her flick her eyes around the garage. She was as elegant and coolly controlled as usual, but she stood with an unfamiliar awkwardness. “Oh. Congratulations on the promotion. I didn’t know.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you for coming down. Ray…needs a friend, right now.”

Surprised at the compassion held in Stella’s statement, Fraser nodded. “Yes, I suppose anyone would. I’m glad I was able to help.”

She fiddled with her keys. “Did he…did he tell you what happened?”

Fraser straightened up. “What occurred between you and Ray is your private business. I am simply here to assist him with the move back to Chicago.”

She nodded, but pursed her lips. Then she squared her shoulders and gave him a look more suited to her role in the courtroom. “Ray doesn’t lie. He’s a good man. But Armando…he’s a bastard, a lying, cheating bastard. If you’re Ray’s friend, you’ll stop him.”

“Stop him?” Fraser faltered.

“Stop him from lying. Someone needs to make him stop lying. Make him face up to the truth. Keep him from hurting himself…and others.”

“Mrs. Vecchio, I’m Ray’s friend, I can only assure you of that.”

“It’s Dunaway. Not Vecchio, not Kowalski. Dunaway.” She said and walked into the house.

They signed the divorce papers in the dining room, with Fraser as witness, and that night Ray stayed at the hotel with Fraser. The room had separate beds, fortunately, although Ray presented the casual air of one who was not the least inhibited by what had happened, and Fraser was grateful for that. He was not really prepared to face up to the attraction he still held for Ray, and he was more than certain that Ray was completely confused about what (and who) he wanted. There was a chance that Ray was not attracted to Fraser at all, of course, and Fraser found that the possibility offered a cold sort of comfort. He was content to let it all wash under the bridge and appreciate Ray for the true friend he still was.

And not regret the mistakes of his past, or dream of other lives he might have lived.

They drove out of Ft. Lauderdale early, at the crack of dawn, while Ray complained about the price of gas in a tourist trap. The temperature was already near 80 degrees and Fraser could not imagine how anyone could ever call the dull-green, humid, flat bit of over-heated earth “paradise.” He was more than relieved to put it to his back, and said so.

“That makes two of us, Benny. I don’t know what I was thinking, moving here.”

“You don’t?”

“Okay, I do. It was Armando’s idea of retirement, not mine.”

Fraser nodded and Ray glanced over at him shyly.

“So what about you? You and Stanley going to retire to some Canadian shack up north?”

“Ah, well, yes, but I must insist that you don’t call him Stanley. His name is Ray.”

“MY name is Ray.”

“Many people share names, Ray. You can both be Ray.”

“I was Ray FIRST.”

“Ray…”

“Sorry…just…sometimes I wonder. About…us.”

Fraser swallowed hard, and shook his head, warding off the feeling of hope and determined not to pursue that line of conversation. “We were good partners, Ray. We are good friends.”

“Yeah. I know…so you and Stan…Ray. You two good?”

“Yes. He is temperamental, but perhaps that is my preference in partners.” He smiled and Ray cackled with laughter. “He is a bit…jealous.”

“In general, or just of me?”

“Mostly you, I think.”

“Yeah. Guess I’m his Victoria.”

Fraser’s blood went cold. “That…that is not amusing.”

“Wasn’t meant to be.” Ray’s voice was as icy as Fraser’s blood, but then he blew out a heavy breath. “Just…look, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Benny. Just saying, I know how he feels. Every day I waited for her to show up and ruin us all over again. Ray’s probably been waiting for me to waltz you out of his life since I came back from Vegas. Not that I could, I get that you love him, I know how you are with the devotion thing. But that’s part of it, don’t you see that? Devotion. You never really leave anyone behind.”

Fraser was rendered speechless by that. Ray looked over and shrugged, and Fraser tried to think of a reply but it all circled in his brain back around to the fact that, in truth, Ray was probably right.

They were silent company all the way past Orlando, with most of the scenery consisting of cow pastures interspersed with pines and palmetto bushes. The Turnpike flowed freely with no slowdowns, even when they passed Disney World.

“Children.”

“What?” Ray snorted, sipping the coffee they got from the last roadside stop.

“Disney World. Children.” Fraser tried to pull his brain back from the distant introspection he had been lost in. “Ray wants…or at least, wanted, at one time, children. With Stella.”

“I know. We talked about kids, and how she don’t want ’em.”

“And you do?”

“Not really. Me? Little Vecchios all burping up on my nice suits? Don’t think so.”

“I’m sure your mother will be disappointed.”

“She’s got Frannie popping them out now, not to mention Maria’s holy terrors. She’s busy enough. No, the one who’s going to be disappointed is Ma Kowalski. She and Stella were tight. Still are. Every week it was ‘Oh Stanley needs to find a good woman’ and ‘Oh when will Stanley give me grandbabies’ and ‘Oh Stella have you TALKED to Stanley?’ and it drove us both nuts.”

“Yes, well. His mother is very…traditional. We didn’t want…” Fraser sighed, trying not to remember that conversation. He had tried to convince Ray that they should be honest about their relationship, but Ray lived in terror of alienating his parents yet again.

“Yeah yeah, I get it Benny. You think I’m calling Ma on the hotline to tell her the name of my mistress was Paul?”

“I suppose not.”

“Get him a dog.”

Fraser paused to change channels in his mind. “Ray?”

“Yeah, your boyfriend, remember him? Skinny Polack with bad hair? Get him a dog. He can call it George and love it and pet it and squeeze it and…”

“Why George?”

“Never mind, Benny. Dog. Buy. For him.”

“I think Diefenbaker is quite enough…”

“No no no. Diefenbaker is, like, your partner. He’s not a pet.”

“I’m sure he would agree.”

“Exactly. And see? I got Mack, here.” Ray pointed to the backseat where the cat was dozing in a travel crate twice as large as he truly needed, on a fleece blanket, with a stuffed teddy bear and two catnip-infused toy mice. Fraser looked at him, and Machiavelli blinked back magnanimously. “Unconditional love, Benny. That’s what it is all about. Get him a dog and he will never mention children again.”

\----------------

“Ray? RAY? Where are you?”

“Nowhere! At the park! Yeah, the park!” Ray yelled back at him through the phone. Fraser could barely hear him for all the barking going on. “How’s the trip?”

Ray’s ability to feign casualness strained all credibility, and Fraser sighed. “Ray, Welsh informed me that you were involved in trying to rescue the animals recovered from the dog fighting ring. I hope that what I am hearing right now is not…”

“Hey! Welsh was just mad about that interview. I did nothing wrong, okay? They asked questions, I answered. That’s it. Do not listen to him. You haven’t talked to him lately, have you?”

“No, but perhaps I should…”

“NOT! You should not, Frase, just leave it alone, travel safe. I love you. Dief says hi…wait, you fuckers, stop!...” The line went dead and Fraser sat staring at the phone as the scenery rolled by. They were coming up on Valdosta, intending to stop soon for the night on the other side of the city. They had spent more than ten hours on the road due to Ray’s determination to make it out of the state at all costs, and Fraser felt his own exhaustion keenly. Ray had done the majority of the driving, and was even more tired. Fraser closed the cell phone.

“Oh dear.”

“He’s a real catch there, Benny.” Ray snickered.

“I should thank you to stay out of my personal business, Ray.” Fraser knew he was being snippy, but he was tired and aggravated, and a man _did_ have his limits.

“Ooooo, pissy Mountie! Time for beddie bye.” Ray pointed at the sign for a hotel six miles up the road.

“Perhaps you are right.”

They pulled into the parking lot and Ray turned to look at him. “I’m thinking we need separate rooms.”

Fraser was utterly appalled and insulted for 2.4 seconds, until he realized that Ray was referring to himself. “I disagree.”

“Not trying to insult your honor, but…”

“We managed fine last night.”

“I know. I just don’t want to push my luck, okay? I haven’t been real good at checking myself, lately.”

“I trust you, Ray. As I hope you trust me.”

“Maybe I don’t trust me.”

Fraser was on the verge of telling him to give himself more credit than that, but then remembered that Ray had just recently been cheating on his wife. Now he was divorced and even that restriction was loosened. Fraser sighed, determined to face this issue head on. “Do you need sex so badly, Ray?”

“Hell no, I’ve had enough of that for three lifetimes.” Ray sighed and sat against the door while Fraser studied the parking lot through the windshield, giving his friend time to think. “Maybe I just need you.”

Fraser snapped around to look at him, and something flickered there, but Fraser would not call it friendly, and certainly not trustworthy.

“You have my friendship, Ray,” he said carefully, staring at him, and slowly Ray’s eyes warmed up again.

“Thanks, Benny. I’m…sorry about that. I just get…Look, I don’t want to hurt you or us or even Kowalski. You know it’ll kill him to lose you.”

Fraser looked at his hands and then looked out the windshield, and spoke because he could not stop himself. “Because it nearly killed you?”

Ray sat back as if slapped, and then threw himself out of the car to go get them a room for the night. Fraser heard a small mewl of disapproval from the back and turned to eye Machiavelli.

“Oh, you please stay out of it.” Fraser got out to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.

\------------

“Daisy.”

“What?” Fraser responded without thinking. He had called to give Ray a good-night _something_ while Ray was in the shower, but Ray had picked up the phone and said “Daisy” and Fraser was wracking his brain for which code word this was, and if it meant Ray was in trouble, and what on earth he could do about it from just north of the Florida state line.

“Daisy. The dog. I told you.”

Oh. Ah. “Yes, Daisy. The intelligent Rottweiler.”

“Look, I SWEAR to you, I was just trying to get some attention on the whole thing, I wasn’t planning this, but I love her, she’s greatness, she’s…”

“You’re in love with Daisy?” Fraser blinked rapidly as Ray walked out of the bathroom in his pajamas and stalled, a look of horror on his face.

“I’ll kill him, Benny. That fucker messing around on you? I will CUT his balls OFF. YOU GOT THAT? I will CUT you!” Ray had stomped over and was trying to yell into the phone while Fraser scooted backwards on the bed, attempting to keep him from grabbing the phone out of his hands.

“Shut up! Leave Daisy out of this!” Ray was yelling back through the phone and Fraser was holding it as far away from both himself and Ray as he could.

“If you are all so hot on this Daisy, maybe you should move in with her instead!”

“She’s a dog!”

“You’re porking her and you talk like that? No wonder Stella divorced you!”

“FUCK OFF, VECCHIO!”

“NO! YOU FUCK OFF!”

“WILL YOU TWO SHUT THE HELL UP?” Fraser stood up on the bed, towering over Ray and holding the phone up to the ceiling.

“He’s two timing you, Benny…” Ray was nearly shaking with rage.

“No, he’s not. Daisy really IS a dog. A Rottweiler, in fact. One of the dogs impounded from that raid I was telling you about.”

“Oh.” Ray waved his hand in a vague apology and sat down on the other bed. “Sorry.”

“Understood. Ray, are you there?”

“If he’s done being an asshole, yeah.”

“Please, Ray…what is going on with Daisy?”

“Um, maybe I should Dief explain.”

“He’s really never grasped the subtly necessary for extended phone conversa…”

“_Whuf._”

Fraser stopped himself from replying, and heard Ray in the background, coaching Diefenbaker. “No, you tell him. I am not. No, do not look at me like that, this is YOUR fault, and I’m going to lose my BADGE and then who is going buy you pizza, huh? The Mountie? He going to buy you pizza? I do not think so. Spill.”

There was another pause, then some growls and a few yips, and Fraser groaned. “Oh dear.”

Ray was back on the phone. “His idea, I swear to God, Frase. He’s got some obsession with her, now, I don’t know, he was pretty much stalking her at the pound, nearly got himself hauled in, and now this. I mean, I visited her a few times, but I did NOT do this.”

“You can tell him from me that pizza privileges, among many others, are hereby revoked.” Fraser tried to sound stern. “And as for you, you may be sure that certain privileges are also revoked.”

“Hey! I told you, I did NOT…”

“You aided and abetted Diefenbaker helping that bitch escape the pound, and now she’s loose, and probably considered dangerous. She will be shot on sight.”

“You TOLD him I drove? I did not tell you to tell him that part. You are a bad wolf. Bad!”

“Ray. Ray, please…Ray?”

“_Get back here!_ Gotta go, Frase, sorry. Love ya.”

Fraser fell backwards on the bed with a loud sigh. He looked over to see Ray pulling Machiavelli out of his crate, cooing and petting him.

“Poor baby, all cooped up. Want to sleep with Daddy? I got some primo catnip here, make you feel all good after dinner. Yeah, good boy, awwww, I love you too. This is the lamb and rice pate you like so much…see? Eat up and we’ll read the comics while I comb you out, okay? I got the newspaper right here for you, baby, yeah, good boy…”

Fraser groaned.

\---------------

Fraser woke up to find himself alone in the room, and Ray outside the door, on the phone. Sternly reminding himself that eavesdropping was inappropriate, he nonetheless slid out of bed and shuffled over to the door, the worst of his instincts taking over his sense of shame. As usual.

“Sure, whatever, I’m just saying…Sure, I get that, believe me, like no one else ever will, I get that, I worked with him too…I’m just trying to do the right thing here, _Stanley_…right, right, he gave me the same lecture. I was Ray FIRST…okay, fine. Ray. Fine…could you possibly stay on topic for, oh, five seconds?...You can ask Stella whatever you want, I don’t care. I’m just trying to be straight with you about the Mountie…don’t threaten me, you do NOT want to go down that road…He loves you, moron. You get that? You GET that? Jesus, you are brain damaged…What the hell kind of question is that? You remember who you are talking to here? Wait, are you drunk?...don’t get pissy, Kowalski. You are a fucking drama queen, I swear to God…yes, fine, I DO think you’re attractive, but shouldn’t you ask Fraser that instead of me?…This is about the dog, _Ray_ and stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about…Hey, wait, I think I heard him, he must be waking up. Look, we never had this conversation, okay?...Never means NEVER, idiot…”

Fraser missed the last part as he dove for the bed just as the door opened. Ray came in, sneaking very loudly through the room to the bathroom, and in the next second the shower went on. Machiavelli was spread over the entirety of Ray’s bed, and he squinted up at Fraser owlishly. Fraser suspected that the cat was probably hung over from the vast amounts of catnip Ray had fed him over the course of several hours while they watched the news on TV the night before.

When Ray came out he made a big production of asking if Fraser had called Ray yet, then set about slowly tucking the cat back into his travel suite (as Fraser had come to think of it). Now that they were officially out of Florida, Ray did not feel the pressure to drive quite so recklessly and their trip up I-75 through Atlanta and into Chattanooga was made fairly close to the speed limit. After they stopped for lunch (“Ray, look, a salad bar!”) Fraser settled back and looked at the phone, then looked over at Ray.

“Victoria.”

Ray twitched at the name, but to his credit did not balk.

“Were you attracted to me then?” Fraser asked, turning the phone over and over in his hands.

“Yeah. Yeah, I was,” he said with a sigh. “Hell, I was in _love_ with you.”

Fraser tried not to snap the phone in two while Ray kept talking. “Benny, almost everyone who meets you falls for you…’cept maybe Welsh,” he added thoughtfully, and they both shuddered. “And being with you all the time…I was a goner. But, you gotta understand, I didn’t think of it that way. I was in love with you, but I wasn’t. Even if I’d realized, I wouldn’t have tried anything. I didn’t want to think of myself as a guy-Frannie, trying to hump your leg, and hell, I thought you were straight. So either way…I would have gone to Vegas, Benny. Either way.”

“I never suspected. At all.” Fraser spoke quietly, forcing himself not to think of possibilities untried, and hating himself for even that much. Ray, his Ray, deserved better.

“That makes two of us. Benny…” Ray’s hand moved off the steering wheel and grasped his, holding it tight, completely unaware of the emotional upheaval Fraser’s slightly sweaty palms implied. They both kept their eyes on the road. “I never really understood what I felt for you until I was IN Vegas, okay? When I was going through hookers like French fries, I knew what was missing. And the only one I wanted there was you.” He let go of Fraser’s hand and Fraser curled it closed, missing the warmth of connection. “But you moved on, and no, I’m not mad about that. Okay, I was, I’m man enough to admit I hated the idea of you two…but hell, I’m the one that walked on you, and you had no idea what I was feeling because I had no idea, and all’s fair in love and war. So now I need a friend, and you’re my best friend, Benny, and I’m moving home after my _second_ divorce and Ma won’t say it, but could I be any more of a failure?”

Ray sighed and went quiet, and Fraser reached out and took his hand again, and they held hands silently all the way through Chattanooga, where they caught I-24 (after a confusing switchback of four interstate highways colliding in a distinctly _American_ combination of concrete that Fraser barely understood at the practical level, and could not grasp theoretically to save his life, but which all made perfect sense to Ray). They were still holding hands into Nashville, where the familiar signs for I-65 finally appeared. And while holding hands for extended periods of time was not something friends tended to do – Fraser was fully aware of that – it felt right, and comfortable, and he thought Ray (Kowalski) would understand.

He hoped.

\-----------------

“VECCHIO!”

“Yes sir!” Ray’s eyes went wide and clearly his automatic Welsh-response-system was engaged. Fraser just watched, amused by the familiarity of it all, holding the mobile with it set on speaker-phone so Ray could drive and talk without endangering them.

“Your desk is empty, and I am confused, which displeases me. When I am confused, my stomach gets upset, and I suffer acid reflux, the details of which I am sure you do not want to discuss.”

“You’re right about that, sir.”

“I am right, and yet I am still confused.”

“Nashville, sir.”

“You’ve transferred to Nashville? And does this have anything to do with the Mountie playing a guitar?”

“No and yes, sir. I’m on the road. We’re on I-65, north of Nashville, and will be stopping for the night. I expect to make it in to Chicago late tomorrow. Sir.”

“Mountie? Guitar?”

“Ah, no sir, I did not bring my guitar with me, and we do not expect to stop in Nashville.” Fraser volunteered, and Welsh sighed dramatically.

“Good. If you are getting in late tomorrow, does this mean I can expect to see you on Thursday? _Detective_?”

“Absolutely, sir, I will be there.” Ray nodded, and Fraser quickly leaped in before Welsh hung up.

“Sir!”

“Yes, Constab-Inspector?”

“The, ah, situation. With Ray’s…mood. Has that improved at all?”

“If he doesn’t produce that dog by noon tomorrow, I cannot guarantee that he will still have a job.” Welsh sounded weary and resigned.

“Understood, sir. I’ll do what I can.”

“It would be appreciated, Con-Inspector.” Welsh hung up.

Fraser sat silently, trying to rally his thoughts. Welsh thought Ray had Daisy, or at least knew where she was, which made sense, as Diefenbaker told him that Ray drove the ‘gettaway car’ after the break out. Grinding his teeth, he dialed.

“Yo.”

“You committed a felony, Ray. You have to return the dog.”

“What dog?”

“Daisy, the dog. I was just speaking to Welsh…”

“What? What? You’re breaking up, there, Frase…”

Fraser listened to the crinkling of a gum wrapper over the phone. “Childish, Ray. You can hear me just fine. You must return the dog.”

Now it was silverware being scraped over a plate. “Ray, put the silverware down.”

“SORRY! Can’t hear you! Bad connection! Call back later!”

Fraser stared at the dead phone in his hands.

“He always like that?” Ray asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“He went to Catholic school, didn’t he?”

Fraser frowned at the non sequitur. “Yes, for a few years, I believe he did.”

“Figures. The craziest motherfuckers I ever knew came out of Catholic school.”

“Language, Ray…”

“Got a temper too, doesn’t he?”

“Quite.” Fraser sighed.

“Reminds me of Ange, when she was young. Always going five directions at once, and never making sense until she got there.”

The reference to Ange seemed just as out of place, and jumping on a hunch, Fraser looked over at Ray. “If I may ask: do you find him attractive?”

Ray coughed but covered it and his face turned into a mask. Fraser marveled at the change Vegas had wrought on his volatile friend, who before had always been so open with his emotions and reactions.

“One hell of a question to ask, Benny.”

“I apologize, perhaps it was out of line.”

“You think? Jeeze, Benny, don’t ask a guy something like that about your _boyfriend_, unless it’s a dark bar and everyone is drunk.” Ray frowned and kept both hands on the wheel the rest of the day.

That night, Fraser claimed a headache and forced the “Ray and Mack Show” to an early close; it was not really a lie, he told himself, because the way Ray mooned over that cat would give a saint a migraine. Fraser went to bed and Ray claimed to be reading the paper, then snuck out the door with the phone at 9:05 pm. Once again berating himself for being nosy and disrespecting others’ privacy, Fraser crept up to the door to listen.

“The _dog_, Stanley?...I will call you any damn thing I want, as long as you keep acting like a first class asshole…you could loose your job, moron, your JOB, over a DOG…got it covered? What are you talking about?...ohhhhhh, yeah, I know her, what?...hey, good one. Like who’s gonna know? Not like they’ll order a DNA test…”

Ray chuckled, then laughed. “Right. Fingerprints! Ha! Next Dief will be your alibi…heh…smart, Kowalski, really smart. Hey she still in practice?...Because I got a cat, that’s why, not that it’s…calm down, it’s not like I’m moving in with you and _Daisy_…really? She won’t give him the time of day? Poor Dief. I thought he was irresistible…you are a sick man, Kowalski, I was NOT talking about me…You know Fraser is going to disapprove of this whole thing…start to finish, he will not approve, and he will arrest you himself…no, I will not run interference, I stay out of domestic disputes, they get messy, and at least one of you owns a gun…I owe you nothing, Kowalski, I’m being a friend to Fraser here…yes, FRIEND, you insecure teenager. Someday when you graduate high school you’ll understand how adults have relationships…yeah…yeah…okay, I hear you…what, you sex talking me now, Stanley?” Ray’s voice dropped an octave, becoming slow and syrupy, and Fraser’s stomach dropped with it.

Ray went quiet after that, and Fraser sat down, leaning against the door, wondering what was happening. Finally Ray sighed. “Don’t say that, Kowalski…Jesus, just drop it. I don’t know what you are trying to get me to admit to, but…Molest him yourself when he gets home…Ray, listen to me. This is not how you are going to make him happy, and no you listen to me, stop interrupting. He loves you, he’s my friend, and that’s it. Pulling this shit will only make you both miserable. My sex life is none of your damn business anyway…Good night…no, good night, Ray. I’ll call you tomorrow from a rest stop when he goes to stretch his legs….yeah we’d probably made it in yesterday if he didn’t spend thirty minutes at every rest stop licking tree sap or whatever. HA!...sure, sure…okay, I GOT it, I promise I’ll call…Good NIGHT…Hang up the damn phone.”

Fraser was snuggled down in the sheets and looked dead to the world when Ray snuck back in, but his heart was in overdrive, pounding wildly, desperate to know what exactly Ray had told Ray. Right then, he wanted nothing more in the world than to hold Ray close to him, for comfort and mutual reassurance…and for the first time, Fraser realized he was not certain which Ray he was thinking about.

\-------------------

The drive into Chicago was long and stressful. Fraser kept calling Ray, who never answered, and avoided calling Welsh, who definitely would. Ray looked over at him often, but his face was blank and dry and empty. Fraser knew what Ray was doing, pulling himself together before he got into the city, and he understood why. Ray was coming back with his tail between his legs, moving back in with his mother after a second failed marriage, and returning to a job he thought he had left behind. Fraser kept himself out the equation for now, because he honestly did not know where he wanted to be. Ray called him his best friend, and that was comfortable and familiar, and that was enough for now.

But the quiet gave him time to consider the many shocks to his system of the last few days, from Vecchio’s divorce, to the revelation of his bisexuality, to his stated love for Fraser which might or might not be something Ray Vecchio had relegated to the past. He decided that Ray’s willingness to engage in carnal relations was forced, something left over from his time in Vegas, or perhaps a representation of his need for affection. If Ray’s personality had been flip-flopping back and forth between “confusion” and “Armando” it was no wonder that the marriage to Stella failed so quickly, and spectacularly.

What bothered Fraser most, though, was remembering the feel of Ray’s skin under his touch – his own willingness to jump over that line of ‘fidelity’ at the merest suggestion that Ray would be open to his advances. True, he had stopped, and turned down Ray/Armando’s offer, but it had not slowed down the ensuing sexual fantasies, or more broad explorations of what he and Ray might have had together, if Fraser had only suspected, or if Ray had not gone to Vegas. It was torturous either way, and Fraser was plagued in no small part by the fact that it all felt like some form of adultery to the Ray he had waiting for him in Chicago. For all the years he prepped himself for Victoria’s return or capture, he had not prepared himself at all for the Ray who sat next him, driving quietly and pulling Fraser into his orbit.

Ray Vecchio dropped Fraser off at his apartment, refusing all offers to come up and see the new place, insisting that he had to “get home” and unpack and figure out what to wear tomorrow, which they both knew was the least of his worries.

It was well past five p.m., closer to six, and Fraser expected to find Ray Kowalski at home. Lights were on and music was drifting into the hall. Fraser opened the door, unsure of what he was walking into, and praying that whatever he found, it would not include…

“Daisy.”

She lolled in the area near the door, and grumbled or growled – Fraser could not, honestly, tell the difference – and suddenly Dief was bouncing around behind her like a puppy, snapping his jaws and asking to play. With her.

“Hello, Diefenbaker. It’s good to see you again, too,” Fraser said dryly, somewhat hurt by the undeniable evidence that he was so quickly displaced in the wolf’s affections. But then, Fraser had always suspected he would come in last behind the bitch-du-jour. Diefenbaker was nothing if not fickle. Unless the matter at hand was donuts or pizza, in which case his love was everlasting.

Daisy stood up, ignoring Dief entirely, and shook herself. The ponderous move was executed gracefully but illustrated her enormous size; she was clearly a larger specimen of the breed, despite being a female, and Fraser judged her at close to 55 kg, possibly up to 70 cm at her withers. Given that Diefenbaker weighed in at 32 kg, on a good day after pizza, their relative height mattered little. She could simply sit on the wolf and win, although clearly they had come to some form of détente, or there would already be blood on the floor.

What he noticed most of all was her head, which was short and broad and massive. All the elegance of Diefenbaker’s predatory profile paled in comparison to the brute strength held in the musculature of Daisy’s face and neck – she was designed for fighting, for _winning_, like a prized boxer in the ring. She was, in the parlance, a “bruiser.” What Fraser knew of the breed gave him respect for it, because Rottweilers were smart, cagey animals known for being protective. Suddenly Fraser realized that she did not know him, that he had walked into her territory uninvited, and Dief was not helping matters at all as Daisy rumbled towards him with the inevitability and power of a steam train.

“Dief, please explain to her that I live here.” Fraser whispered, trying not to sound strained. He was a Mountie, yes; but Daisy was a Rottweiler.

“Hey, Fraser!” Ray bounced out from the back room and looked absolutely thrilled to see him for all of a second, then backpedaled. “Oh. I see you, uh, met Daisy.”

“We are…getting acquainted.” Fraser said quietly, trying to remain absolutely motionless, which, thanks to his experience on sentry duty, he had a lot of practice at. Daisy reached him and circled, sniffing his feet and up his leg to his groin. Fraser held back his instinct to push her away, despite the discomfort of her large nose shoving against his testicles.

“Hey! Those are mine! Back off!” Ray jumped forward and tugged at her collar, a wholly ineffective move, as Ray’s full body yank did not distract her at all. Finally, though, his yelling her name in her ear annoyed Daisy enough that she turned and ran her broad, fat tongue over his face. “Ewwww! We had this discussion! Do not lick!”

“Ray…you did not turn her in before noon, I take it.”

“I did, I really did.” Ray was still trying to drag her away from Fraser, but she sat down and the battle of wills ended. “Yeah, okay, stay there. Good girl.”

“Ray, you obviously did not. She is right here.”

“No, I did. If you don’t believe me, call Welsh. Call the pound. Call anyone you like.”

Fraser narrowed his eyes, all too familiar with the act of dissembling not to recognize Ray’s amateur attempt at it. “What did you do, Ray?”

What followed was a preposterous account of a retired vet, her daughter the gift basket maker, a bucket of daylilies destroyed by Diefenbaker’s best intentions, a broken down delivery van, three pounds of errant chocolate, and a poor stray, homeless Rottweiler accidentally killed by an OD of theobromine despite everyone’s attempts to save her. Fraser stood motionless in the foyer while Ray paced back and forth, swinging his arms over Daisy’s head.

“And they were like, rare endangered daylilies or something, because that stupid bucket cost me $150! So if Dief gets an allowance, it is coming out of THAT…”

“You pulled a ‘fast one’?” Fraser interrupted at last, because Ray seemed determined not to finish his story any time soon.

Ray stopped dead. “Kinda, yeah.”

“You turned in that poor dog’s body claiming it was Daisy’s, in order to save Daisy’s life. It did not occur to you that anyone might…notice?”

“Hey, what are they going to do? DNA test? I say it was Daisy’s body, the vet said it was Daisy’s body…who’s to know?”

“Aside from everyone who knows you?”

Ray frowned at him, thinking it out, then brightened with an idea. “I got lonely while you were gone. Got a dog. Totally coincidental.”

“You honestly think anyone will believe that?”

“They don’t have to. The vet backs me. Dief backs me. _Vecchio_ backs me.” Ray pointed two fingers at Fraser, and Daisy danced happily between them.

“So you discussed this matter with Vecchio, a man you profess to dislike intensely, but not me?” Fraser shut his mouth, wondering why that had come out when he meant to ask ‘Are you unhinged?’

“Hey, I never said I hated the guy. He took a bullet for you.”

“But he did marry your ex-wife.” Fraser lobbed his retort, wondering where his brain had gone. His own hostilities were not helping the situation at all, and he expected Ray to start yelling or boxing or yelling while he boxed. Instead Ray looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck, once again derailing Fraser’s expectations. Daisy shuffled anxiously, her huge head swinging back and forth between them. Dief, apparently, had picked up on the undercurrents and was on the other side of the couch.

“Yeah, well.”

“And you’ve been talking to him behind my back.” Fraser bit his tongue, and tried to think of how to back peddle out of his irrational provocations, but Ray just shrugged and petted Daisy’s head.

“Um…well, I called asking for you, and you were asleep, and we just got to talking. You know. He’s not such a bad guy…” Ray stuffed his hands in his pockets and stepped backwards. “Anyway. Glad you’re home. Gonna move away from the door anytime soon?”

“Not until Daisy lets me.”

“Oh. Well, she knows you live here. I showed her your uniform and made her smell your pillow. It’s the only reason she let you in the door.”

Fraser cocked his head. “That was…very good thinking, Ray.”

“Well I was reading up on it. Owning a dog. Rotties, they’re smart, so you got to start off right with them.”

“She is a trained fighting dog, Ray. I’m not sure there is any way to start off with her at all.”

At that, Daisy stood up and bounced forward, causing the floor to shake a bit, and began twirling in small, slow circles in front of him.

“Non-threatening behavior, there, Frase. She’s saying ‘hello’.”

“I’m aware of that.” Fraser snapped, then looked down at Daisy. She was looking up at him, and gave a small bounce, with her tongue hanging out.

“Pleasure to meet you, Daisy.” Fraser leaned forward and stuck out his hand, palm down, for her to smell but instead she just licked it thoroughly. Fraser looked up at the sound of Diefenbaker’s affronted whuffing.

“I think Dief’s jealous, buddy.”

Fraser moved his hand to scratch her head, realizing that next to her skull, his fingers looked almost dainty. “That is not my problem, Ray. My problem is that you brought a trained fighting dog to our house, illegally and under false pretenses.”

“Oh my God, you are NOT going to arrest me!” Ray stepped back, and Fraser felt a low grumble come up through his hand from Daisy. He slowly straightened up and dropped his hands to his sides, non-threateningly.

“Ray…”

“Listen to me, Frase. Just listen. She is NOT a trained fighting dog! The owner told me so, he’s one of the thugs going up for bringing dogs across the border illegally, so we got the whole thing on the record. She’s a breeder. She’s never even been in one fight. She’s just over two years old and already had one litter, which was starting her young according to vet. That bastard who owned her had her there so she could breed with whoever won that night’s fighting.” Ray said “breed” as if it was a dirty word.

Fraser looked back down and he and Daisy studied each other carefully. She was intelligent, Ray was right about that; the look in her eyes was deep and filled with emotion. “So you mean…”

“Yep. She’s CANADIAN.” Ray grinned, and Fraser smiled.

“Still, Ray, you broke several laws…”

“And that scar? Not from a fight, like I said. The vet thinks it is a scar from a whipping. She was abused, Ben. Those bastards hurt her for no reason! I just…I had to do something.”

Fraser sighed and rubbed his face, remembering too late that one hand was covered in Rottweiler slobber. He looked at the offending hand. “Ray, you broke and entered and stole property…”

“Fraser, don’t argue semen…samant…words with me. Saving her life was all about truth, justice, and the Canadian way.”

“And yet, you are an American police officer.” Fraser finally grinned, pleased to see Ray so happy with himself and knowing the fight was already lost.

“All for the cause of good international relations.”

Fraser nodded, and slowly crouched down to look Daisy in the eyes, hoping for the best, for Ray’s sake if not the dog’s. “Will you be happy here? Will you adjust to being a part of our pack?”

He heard Ray repeat the word ‘pack’ with an amused tone, but kept looking directly at the dog. If she was in any way hostile, the direct nature of his gaze would bring it out in her. He was taking a risk, but he had to know if Daisy had any tendency toward aggression before this went any further. Instead, she walked forward, bumped into him, and kept going, and Fraser had no choice but to fall backwards onto his rear end. She circled in between his legs twice. Her whole body was wagging with pleasure, as her tail had been docked and there was no way for the motion to run out the way it naturally should. Then she plopped down over his lap, immobilizing him.

“Ooof.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, she thinks she’s a lap dog.” Ray snickered and reached over to grab his duffle off the floor and marched into the bedroom while Fraser struggled to shove Daisy off. Diefenbaker assisted by extolling her canine virtues, which centered mostly on his declaring what a wonderful rump she had.

“If you like it so much, be so kind as to help me give it a shove.” Fraser snarled. Daisy turned just as Fraser was leaning forward to get some leverage and they head-butted painfully. She yapped and jumped off of him while Diefenbaker barked that Fraser was clumsy.

“Thank you _kindly_.” Fraser snapped as he rolled onto his feet and Daisy danced around worriedly, her feet thumping against the wooden floor as she scuttled up to him and then jumped back, over and over. “Well at least someone is worried for my health and well being,” Fraser announced loudly, but Dief was too busy watching Daisy’s wonderful rump. Fraser sighed.

“So hey, miss me?” Ray was suddenly next to him, pushing him against the wall. Daisy seemed to be assisting.

“Very much so. It was an exhausting trip.”

“Yeah, driving will do that to you.”

“Ray drove, I provided the entertainment,” Fraser dead panned, and after a second, Ray laughed.

“Funny Mountie.” He leaned in and kissed him, and Fraser sighed into it, relieved. This was where he belonged. This was home. They stood kissing in the foyer until Diefenbaker and Daisy got bored watching and started trying to climb up them.

“Down! Down! What’d I tell you, huh? No jumping!” Ray was off and scolding Daisy, while Fraser leaned stupidly against the wall, wondering where the body heat went. After a moment he pushed off and decided it was high time to have a long talk with Diefenbaker about Daisy’s “rescue”, and exactly what “criminal intent” meant.

They finally progressed to dinner while Dief orbited Daisy like a satellite. Daisy ignored him completely, Ray fed them both scraps under the table and Fraser leaned under the table regularly to scold everyone. Fraser tried to not think about Ray Vecchio for a while; there was not a lot of the story he could reveal to Ray, and the rest of it he did not want to admit anyway. He was glad when talk turned back to Daisy as they got ready for their evening constitutional.

“I use a leash when I walk her, she’s not real comfortable being outside,” Ray said, pulling out a heavy-duty retractable leash and a halter. “I was going to use a choke collar, but the vet, she said Daisy’s neck muscles are so strong she wouldn’t feel it. At least this way I got something to grab onto.”

Fraser studied them as Ray straddled Daisy and fit the heavy leather harness over her. She pranced a bit, which for her was less prancing and more thumping, and turned to lick Ray’s chin. Ray kept up a pattering dialog with her the whole time.

“I know you hate it, but I can’t let you go running around, you don’t know this city like I do…easy, baby, paw here, head here…yeah, I think there might be some ice cream on the way back, if you do your business and don’t scare anyone…not me, you don’t scare me, that’s not what I meant…of course Fraser likes you, he’s just, uh, kinda alpha, you know? And he’s a freak…”

Fraser wondered for the first time in his life if he sounded as crazy talking to Dief as Ray did talking to Daisy, then decided not since Dief actually answered back.

“Come, Diefenbaker.” Fraser opened the door to find Ray standing there with Machiavelli in the crate at his feet.

“Hey, Benny.”

They looked at each other for a split second before the cat went insane in his crate, Dief started barking out a warning, and Daisy threw herself at the door, howling in defense. Ray grabbed for her harness and went down to the floor in an effort to pull her back, and Fraser was yelling at Dief to “get the hell out of the way!” so he could slam the door shut on Ray Vecchio’s shocked expression.

“Jesus Christ!” Ray was sitting on the floor, Daisy standing over his lap with his arms wrapped around her while she kept growling at the door.

“I think…I think we need to work on technique.” Fraser said, his back to the door, Diefenbaker running figure-eights between all of them.

“What the HELL is he doing here?” Ray yelled as he slid across the floor, wrestling with Daisy who was hell bent on protecting their borders.

“Ma kicked me out, asshole! Happy now?” Ray shouted through the door.

“Why?” Fraser yelled back, shoving at Daisy with his foot.

“Stella called her, told her about…fuck.” Ray’s voice trailed, and Ray looked up from the floor in confusion. Fraser’s heart sunk; he had very little cause to actively hate Stella before now, as much as he did not particularly like her, but right then he was very glad she was not in the room because he would have given her a tongue lashing his own grandmother would be proud of.

“Ray, I can’t let you in!” Fraser yelled. “Daisy is unfamiliar with you, and…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll…leave.”

“NO!”

Ray looked up at him in shock from the floor and Daisy stopped in mid bark, scooting back anxiously. Dief skidded to a sitting position and the three of them stared at him in confusion. Well, thought Fraser: Alpha, indeed.

“Go down to the end of the hall with Mack and stand there. We have to take the dogs out for a walk, and they can burn off some energy at the park. We’ll leave the door open behind us so you can go in.”

“I do NOT trust my cat with your vicious brutes!”

“Just like him to argue. What is he? Stupid?” Ray muttered, climbing up off the floor.

“I heard that, _Staaaaanley_.”

“Two words, Vecchio: cat snack!”

“Hurt my cat and I swear to God I will…”

“Gentlemen! Could we perhaps move along, here? Ray, if you would _please_ move down the hall.”

“Sure, Benny. Make sure the hedgehog has his killer mutt under control though.”

“She’s a purebred!”

“Ray! Please! Just keep a hold of her harness. I’m opening the door now. Diefenbaker, please go into the hall and run interference between us and Ray. No, that Ray, out there…I mean, stay between the Rays. Thank you.”

Fraser managed to keep everyone on their toes long enough for them to make it out of the building. Down at the park, Diefenbaker took off at full speed to run out his aggression while Daisy kept running out the leash and then anxiously trotting back to Ray.

“I can’t let her off the leash to run with Dief, Frase.” Ray looked unhappily at Daisy, who was nearly vibrating with pent up anxiety.

“Here, give me her leash.” Fraser held out his hand, and Ray gingerly handed it over, eyeing Daisy for her reaction. Fraser turned to her and held the leash up. “Now, I am going to take you for a run. You are going to keep up. If you really must stop, bark twice. Understand?”

She cocked her head and barked twice. Fraser twitched, because while he did not understand a word she said, it was clear that she understood him, and in all honesty he had not expected her to; it was something he did for show on Ray’s behalf. But she _did_ understand, and they stared at each other in growing awareness of exactly what they were getting into until he remembered what, exactly, he was supposed to be doing.

“Keep up.” He took off at a steady pace, slightly slower than what he would use with Diefenbaker, as she was not really built for speed.

\-------------

“Ice cream entirely defeats the purpose of taking them for a run.” Fraser grumbled as they marched up the steps to their apartment.

“The purpose of the run, Fraser, was for them to get their ya yas out. Which they did. Which makes them a good boy wolf and a good girl doggie and they get ice cream. Hey, it wasn’t chocolate, okay?” Ray sauntered up behind him, thoroughly pleased with himself. Daisy was still licking her chops and Diefenbaker kept offering to do it for her, so they were good naturedly nosing back and forth at each other.

“Oh. I forgot about this.” Ray stopped when they got to their floor and stared down the hall. “Fraser, why is Vecchio here? What did Stella tell Ma Vecchio?”

“I’m not sure it is my place…”

“To hell with that. He’s here because he’s got nowhere else to go. He’s looking for, whatyoucallit, _asylum_, in my apartment. I got a right to know.” Ray’s hands fluttered though the air in frustration.

Fraser leaned up against the wall, and Daisy came over and spread herself over his feet. He wondered when his feet became natural roosts for cats and dogs. _Heavy_ cats and dogs.

“I can’t tell you the specifics, Ray, I’m sorry. You will have to ask him yourself. But I can say this: if it is for the reason I suspect, then chances are, Ray might never be allowed back in his house as long as his mother is alive.”

“What, he’s gay?” Ray snickered and then laughed, and Fraser tried to stop the expression that he knew flitted across his face, but he failed. Ray’s jaw dropped. “What the fuck? No! He never said…No!”

“I told you, I cannot discuss his personal life with you. And certainly not out in the hall.” Fraser pried his feet out from under Daisy, who rolled backwards in an attempt to stop him, but he got free and walked down to their door. He stopped, and both he and Ray gave a long lecture to Daisy about Ray and Machiavelli. She remained unconvinced of the lack of threat to their home security, and seemed to communicate as much to Ray.

“Just be patient. I know, you’re young, everything’s a drama, but listen to Dief on this, okay? Vecchio’s good people.”

Fraser felt confusion about Ray’s apparent change of heart, even knowing of their clandestine phone calls over the last three days. But his own heart bloomed at the comment, at the mere suggestion that the Rays might somehow finally get along. He stomped down on the feeling ruthlessly to keep his expectations within the realm of possibility.

“I hear you guys out there. Should I lock me and Mack into a closet or something?”

“From what I hear, coming out of the closet is what got you in this mess,” Ray said carelessly, and Fraser paled, horrified that Ray would take the matter so cavalierly.

“Jesus, Benny, you told him?” The voice on the other side of the door was quiet, and there was a small thump that Fraser suspected was Ray’s head against the door itself. Fraser tried to figure out what to do, when Ray pushed past him and pressed up his body against the door.

“Hey, hey, chill out, Vecchio. Fraser didn’t tell me, I kind of guessed, okay? And it’s okay, I get it. We’re coming in now, so make sure your monster is crated and off the floor. Then go in the kitchen and get us a couple beers.” Ray put his hand up against the door and something strangled Fraser’s heart as Ray continued speaking, his voice low and soothing. “It’ll be alright, Vecchio. We’ll be alright. Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” There was noise and after a few seconds, they opened the door. Ray held onto both the leash and harness to keep Daisy calm, and they walked in slowly, coordinated like a military operation. Mack was in his crate on the dining room table, hissing furiously, and Ray dragged Daisy away and sat down on the couch to talk to her. Dief and Fraser went into the kitchen.

“Ray…”

“Yeah, okay, I know you didn’t tell him. Guess it’s pretty obvious, what the hell else could it be, right?” Ray had already downed half the beer, and Fraser decided to slow him down. He gently took the bottle out of his hands.

“Not really. Just…Ray is a very smart man, and a detective, such as yourself.”

“Look, I swear, I’m not here to cause trouble with you two. I just…I really don’t have…anywhere…” Ray’s back was to the counter, his hands grasping the edge of it, and he bowed over, seeming to collapse on himself. Fraser stepped over and took him into his arms, and heard him whispering. “God, I lost everything, just everything, I don’t even know who I am and my family won’t talk to me and God I didn’t even know I was in love with you and I am ruined, Benny, I’m ruined, my second marriage and now great, I’m a fag, and my mother…my mother…” Ray buried his face into Fraser’s chest and held on. Fraser felt like he was barely holding Ray back from a complete melt down.

Fraser petted him and held him and looked up to see Ray standing in the doorway. There was nothing to say, it was obvious that Ray was just short of crying in his arms, and Fraser rested his cheek against the back of his head. Dief sat down and leaned into both of them, and Ray wrapped his arms around Fraser finally. Ray studied them and then walked over and pressed up against their sides, placing his arms over their shoulders. They stood there motionlessly until a heavy sack of potatoes slammed into the back of Fraser’s knees, and he grabbed onto the counter for balance. Ray reached down.

“Hey, girl, we’re fine, okay? Everyone’s fine. You just…uh, stand guard, okay?”

Daisy whuffed and squirmed until her back was pressed against Fraser’s legs and she could keep an eye on the doorway.

“That’s one hell of a Daisy Duke, Kowalski. Best date you could find?” Ray rolled his head over Fraser’s chest to look at Ray.

“Better than your rug rat out there.”

“At least I got a pet, not a _house horse_. You need a stable for that thing…”

“Insult my girl like that again and I will kick you in the…”

“Gentlemen, _please_.”

&gt;\---------


	2. Chapter 2

They set Ray up in the third bedroom, which was their guestroom, or at least Fraser liked to think of it that way. Ray considered it ‘extra storage’ so there was some time spent shoving boxes and junk out of the way, which Fraser volunteered to take down to the local charity center. Ray glared at him as he stomped off to bed, and the other Ray laughed at them both. He set the cat crate up high on the spare dresser, which was fortunately (and surprisingly) empty. Mack had only stopped hissing long enough to draw breath.

“Is everything else in your car, Ray?” Fraser turned and looked around the room, coming to terms with the fact that it still looked like a garage sale.

“Yeah. Stella called Ma while we were on the road, so Ma had a lot of time to work up a good steam. Mack never even made it through the door. I had to leave him on the porch.”

“I admit I’m very surprised at Stella.” Fraser said, trying to sound calm and non-judgmental.

“I’m not. She and Ma weren’t close but she wanted my family to know that I broke my marriage vows, and that I broke them by fucking other guys.” He sighed. “You want the truth? I don’t think she did it as revenge, I really don’t. She’s not mean like that. She’s just got this thing about the _truth_ and she thought I would lie to them.”

“And you would.” Fraser knew it was true, even as he said it.

“Yeah. I would,” Ray said bitterly. “Little white lies, never hurt anyone, you know? Not like the lies I had to peddle in Vegas. Hell, that makes all this look like penny ante.”

“A lie is still a lie, Ray,” Fraser said, his heart breaking for his friend.

“Yeah, it is. I just forgot that for a while.” Ray’s voice went soft and he looked everywhere but at Fraser.

“And now?”

“Now I think the decision was taken out of my hands.” Ray stuck his fingers into the crate, trying to distract Machiavelli, who was glaring at Daisy and Diefenbaker. They sat in the doorway, purposefully oblivious to the fact that they were critically in the way of everyone, just so they could stare at the cat, who started grumbling low in his throat, a sort of reverse meow.

“You know, Benny, I don’t think this is going to work.” Ray waved at the space between the animals.

“Well, perhaps they will never be friends, but I hope that they will all acclimate to the situation, eventually.” Fraser tried to sound confidant, despite his own doubts.

Ray cocked his head and smiled shyly, a look Fraser had not seen on Ray in years. Literally. He smiled back warmly.

“Eventually, huh? So you think maybe I could hang out here for a while? Until I get…settled?”

Fraser stalled. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Huh?”

“About lying. I have to know, Ray. Are you going to you lie to me?”

Ray stared at him, then shook his head. “Like I could ever lie to you? Nah, Benny, no lies.”

“Ray…”

“No lies, Benny. I swear to God. No matter what. But some things…God, some things you can’t ask me, okay? About Vegas…about us. Just don’t.”

“You need to talk to someone.”

“Hell yeah I do. A friend gave me the name of a shrink in town. She’s used to handling cops coming out from undercover, so I figure I can pay for her new car.”

Fraser cocked his head, and Ray blushed.

“Okay, okay, _Kowalski_ gave the name of the shrink. That wasn’t really a lie, you know.” Ray poked at him, aggravated.

“Sin of omission.” Fraser smiled back. “I’m glad Ray is so willing to help you.”

“Yeah…about that. So okay, no lies, right? Well we talked on the phone about you, when we were on the road. I’d call him after you knocked off for the night. Mostly I was trying to get him to turn the dog in, save you some grief. So don’t give me hell about it.” Ray went back to trying to distract the cat.

“I appreciate the honesty.” Fraser looked at the floor, pleased but not wanting to appear condescending as he knew he sometimes could. There was a pause and then Ray cleared his throat.

“But I can stay, right?” He sounded pathetically hopeful, which broker Fraser’s heart yet again. It was painful to see someone so proud reduced to begging for a spare room.

“I don’t foresee a problem with that, Ray. I have to discuss it with Ray, of course, but he seems…surprisingly willing to help, in all areas.” Fraser rubbed his eyebrow, knowing full well it was a nervous tick and unable to stop.

“Yeah. Surprisingly. I see that.” Ray walked over and put his hand on Fraser’s shoulder. “I mean it, Benny, I’m not here to stir the waters. Say the word and I’m gone, okay?”

“Understood.” Fraser smiled again. “Good night, Ray.”

“Night, Benny.” They hugged lightly if a bit awkwardly, the memory of their comforting embrace in the kitchen already distant, and Fraser closed the door behind him. He looked down at the dogs.

“You leave them alone, or consequences will be severe. You are both on probation as it is – no, Diefenbaker, I’ll hear no more of your ridiculous defense – so I expect best behavior from both of you.” Daisy head-butted his knee in response and he tried not to stumble into the wall. She meandered down the hallway then turned, huffing noisily, and Dief jumped after her. “Well, fine then, good night.” Fraser walked into the bedroom, where Ray was already tucked into bed.

“He all settled?”

“Yes, and the dogs are in the front room with a promise of good behavior.”

Ray grinned. “You just called Dief a dog.”

Fraser started undressing. “Well I can’t very well go around calling them ‘The Wolf and the Hound’, can I?”

Ray hooted. “You are watching wayyy to much television, Frase. I feel bad. I’ve corrupted a Mountie with pop culture. Making me watch the Disney channel, though…that’s not buddies.”

Fraser smiled, and sat down to take off his shoes. “You surprise me every day, Ray.”

“Yeah? What’d I do now?”

“Just, your reaction to Ray’s situation, tonight. It was very compassionate.”

“That surprises you?” Ray sat up, frowning.

“No, not in the main. I mean, to him. Personally. You two seem to have, ah, hit if off.”

Ray nodded, but would not look at him. “Shouldn’t surprise you.”

“Knowing how you felt about him in the past…”

“I don’t feel nothing about him, not like that. I think I was madder at him for walking out on you to do the Vegas gig. I was there, remember, when you got back expecting to see him. You were…it hurt you, and that pissed me off. Still does, actually, but he seems okay I guess. And I’m insecure, but I’m not stupid. He’s gay now but I know you. You’d never…do that.”

Fraser felt the shame down to his toes and looked up at Ray, ready to confess all of his many – if unrealized – sins. But Ray was looking at the wall, lost in thought.

“He don’t even got Stella. I got you, at least.”

Fraser blinked, trying to figure out what he meant. Failing, he decided to fall back on his usual method of forthrightness. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“When I got kicked out, I had Stella, you know?”

“I never thought of it that way, I…”

“But who’s he got?” Ray kept talking, lost in thought. “I remember that, Frase. I remember the day my father told me I’d always stink of blood, and to get out of his house.” Ray paused and looked at his hands. Fraser willed himself to stay still, because this was one subject Ray never discussed. Fraser knew more about Ray’s divorce than the estrangement from his parents. “See, I got my A.A., right? And Stella was at U.C., so everyone just thought, hey! Stanley’s going to college too! But I applied to the academy instead of going for the B.A. I knew Dad wouldn’t, you know, be thrilled about it, but Jesus, I had no idea…so I come home with my new uniform, the one we have to wear at the academy, which let me tell you sucked great wads of suckage, because it was polyester. And I knew I was in for a fight, but Dad, man, he lost it. Just lost it. Threw everything out – me, the uniform, my _stereo_. Mom stood in the kitchen crying, wringing her hands, like she didn’t know what to do. And I’m bawling like a fucking baby, because I thought he would at least, I don’t know, listen to me, because I’m his _son_…” Ray’s voice got harder and harder as he talked, so Fraser moved over to put an arm over his shoulders. Ray breathed and bit, calming down, and continued.

“So I get it, you know? How much, how much that _fucking hurts_ to know you haven’t done anything wrong and your family hates you anyway. I slept on Stella’s dorm room floor for a while. If it hadn’t been for her, I would have flunked out of the academy the first week. Now here’s Vecchio, coming out of a hard core undercover gig, fucking up his life, not knowing which way is up and the only place he calls home just locked the door on him. No one should ever feel that way, okay? No one.”

“I agree.” Fraser could not think of any answer better than that, and rubbed at Ray’s back absently. Ray sat up and took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“And I…I kind of feel guilty about where he ended up, anyway.”

Fraser sat back in surprise. “What on earth for?”

“C’mon, Frase, you know I was jealous of him, and I was pissed at him for leaving you, and I was so scared of losing you that I just latched on and refused to let go. He probably needed your friendship and I kind of made sure he couldn’t get it.”

“Good lord, that’s why you asked to go on the Quest?” Fraser’s heart dropped, and Ray spun around to face him.

“No! No…that was about us, you and me. But cutting Vecchio out was a bonus I could not turn down.” Ray leaned forward and put his forehead on Fraser’s shoulder. “We were just getting started, you know? And hey, I told you I’m the insecure type. So don’t get mad at me. I know it was a lousy thing to do to him.”

They sat like that for a minute, then Fraser put his hands on Ray’s shoulders and pushed him back.

“You can’t take the blame for that. I did just as much, fearing he would judge me harshly for being in a homosexual relationship with you…”

“You make it sound so romantic.” Ray snickered.

“It is to me.” Fraser leaned forward and kissed him lightly. “So I cannot have you bearing the weight of my desertion of Ray Vecchio.” He kissed him again and Ray pushed him back.

“Real big of you,” he said, smiling.

Fraser nodded, then took a deep breath. “But if we are confessing our sins, then I have something to tell you.”

Ray’s eyes glittered darkly, but he nodded back at him.

“Down in Florida, when Ray first, ah…revealed certain heretofore unknown aspects of his personality, I…well, it was a rather intimate setting, and I rather forgot myself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ray scuttled backwards. “Wait, you telling me you two…”

“No! No, no, nothing like that. I just…well I did stroke his cheek once.” Fraser hunched down, waiting for the recriminations.

“Huh. That all?”

Fraser looked up to see Ray trying not to smile, and simply did not know how to answer. Wasn’t that enough?

“I mean, it’s okay.”

“You’re joking.”

“Hey, I’m not happy about it. Cheek stroking, should be a felony…”

Fraser could not even process the fact that Ray was making a joke about it. “You’re not jealous? You’re not mad?”

Ray’s eyes narrowed and he waved a hand in Fraser’s face. “Hello? This is me, Ray, your partner? Nice to meet you. Look, I’m a jealous bastard. And insecure. You forget that part?”

Fraser smiled, but quickly turned back to the subject at hand. “Then I don’t understand…”

“I don’t think I do either.” Ray sighed and moved back so they were sitting next to each other again. “You already said you still love him, before you even left to go down there. Now we got the new, improved Queer Vecchio, and I think I’m just glad you two didn’t decide to stay down there in Florida together.”

“Ray…God, Ray, I would never….” Fraser felt the weight of Ray Vecchio’s words, “I’m his Victoria,” and stalled. Ray really had been waiting all this time for Fraser to leave him as soon as Ray Vecchio showed up, and Fraser felt there was no one to blame but himself for that. “I’m sorry that you would ever _doubt_…”

“Okay, okay. You would never, and you didn’t, so it’s all good.” Ray nodded, twisting his fingers together. Fraser sat and watched him for a few moments before replying, putting his emotions away like he was sealing up a box.

“I will ask him to leave in the morning.” He stood up to finish undressing.

“What?”

“Clearly your concerns are far deeper than I ever suspected. I can’t say I don’t care for Ray, or that I don’t want him to be a part of my life. But not at this cost.” Fraser took off his shirts automatically, not even seeing what he was doing.

Ray stared at him, his mouth opening twice before he found his voice again. “Where else is he going to go?”

“He will find a place. I’ll do my best to help him.” Fraser felt his fingers falter when he went to untie his boots.

Ray crawled out of bed and started helping him undress, but refused to look him in the face. “He’s staying, Ben. He’s got nowhere to go, and you…we’re the only friends he’s got right now. He’s annoying as piss but I like him. He cares about you enough to call me up on the phone and chew me a new asshole. He’s staying.”

Fraser’s resolve melted at Ray’s compassion, and he let Ray finish taking off his clothes until they were sprawled on the bed, naked.

“I don’t want to give you cause to doubt me.” Fraser kissed down his neck. “Ray is in a very confused place, and I’m just now coming to terms with our past together. What it was…and wasn’t. But I can’t…I won’t lose you.” He smothered Ray with a long, involved kiss until Ray pushed back.

“I’m okay with this, with him here. Really. On one condition.”

Fraser swallowed, pulling back further, visions of sleeping on the couch for a week – if the dogs would let him – crowding his mind. “Yes?”

“I get to fuck you. Fast, face down, and _hard_.” Ray grinned in an entirely evil fashion. “Now.”

Fraser obligingly rolled over onto his stomach, relief outweighing arousal for the moment. As Ray stretched out over him, kissing his shoulders, Fraser turned his head to look at him. “Marking your territory?”

Ray looked up with his grin in place. “Grrrrrrrrrrrr.”

Fraser was still confused by the whole issue, but within five minutes he was blissfully ignorant of anything but the sound of Ray’s harsh panting in his ear.

\----------------

He could not breathe. Ray was sprawled over his back and his legs and he was trapped, suffocating. He pushed up and realized that Ray was next to him, or rather not so much. Between them, Daisy was sprawled on her back perpendicularly to them, her back legs hitched up on Ray’s chest and her head on Fraser’s back. He looked over her to find Diefenbaker, the traitor, covering his legs, his nose tucked up under Daisy’s drooling jowls.

“This will NOT work.” Fraser announced loudly. Dief and Daisy did not even stir, but Ray sat up in surprise.

“No! Mom!” Ray called out, then blinked and looked around. Smiling, he lay down, rolled onto his side, and began rubbing Daisy’s belly. “Mornin’, girl! You sleep well? Hunh? Poor baby, you got lonely out there?...” Grunting, Daisy squirmed a bit and tipped over, her back leg kicking out in pleasure. She rubbed her face into Fraser’s shoulder blade, smearing slobber over his skin. “Oh yeah, that feel good? Mmmmm…”

“Ray, for God’s sake, they are not children. We can’t have them…”

“Jesus, you are like a litter of puppies.” Ray said from the door, and Fraser howled with pain as both dogs launched themselves off his body to greet Ray good morning. Both Rays laughed and Fraser pulled the sheet up over his head, willing the nightmare to be over.

“Good morning, puppies! Hungry? Are you hungry? I bet you are! Come on. And you two: coffee in five. Up and at ‘em.”

Ray lay back down as Ray and the dogs made for the kitchen. “In all the time I was Vecchio, not one damn person ever mentioned that he is a morning person.”

Fraser grunted.

“It’s 5:45 fucking AM in the morning.” Ray said flatly. “I don’t believe in drinking coffee before six.”

“Hey! The dogs will need walking…okay, okay, the dog and the wolf will need walking here, because they will be done eating in three seconds. Move it!” Ray yelled from the kitchen.

“I take it all back. I hate him, and I want him dead.”

Fraser grunted in agreement.

“What, you two hoping to get a quickie in first? Come on!” Ray rapped on the door as he walked toward the bathroom.

“Anyone else know he’s here?”

“Murder is a felony, Ray.”

“So is waking me up before six.”

“I’m almost inclined to agree with you on that point.” Fraser got up and pulled on his sweats. “However, he’s fed the dogs, and now they will need to go out or, I’m sure, Ray will make us clean up the mess.” On cue, Diefenbaker and Daisy dashed into the room and jumped on the bed, then jumped off, and jumped back on again. Ray fell off the bouncing mattress onto the floor and climbed up the dresser, but finally found decent clothes and bundled up for the walk to the park.

“Rise and shine, Sonic. Here.” Ray shoved a travel cup of coffee into Ray’s hands as he stumbled past the kitchen.

“M’coffee. Sweet?” Ray mumbled.

“Yeah, I put those damn candies in it for you.”

Ray raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Hey, Benny and I were trapped in a car for three days. He finds your eccentricities endearing.” Ray sneered and Ray blew a raspberry back at him. Fraser sipped his own coffee and tried not to look at either Ray, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the veneer of goodwill to crumble between the two most important people in his life. But that was the extent of their interactions for the morning, and Fraser let out a sigh of relief into his mug, although he was not certain if he was being premature.

Vecchio left first, after triple checking to make sure the door to his room -- where Mack was in protective custody -- could not be opened by anyone but a human being. A few minutes later Fraser allowed himself to be collected by Ray and driven to the Consulate, where his life returned to a mind numbing normalcy…although how Turnbull dyed the leather chairs in the conference room bright red, Fraser simply did not have the bottle to ask. Which in its own way was business as usual, Fraser begrudgingly admitted to each Ray in turn when they called him later in the day for no good reason Fraser could determine. He was to the point of suspecting that they were working in concert, but when he asked Dief about it privately that night, he only got a snorted and meaningless whoofing in response. It inclined Fraser to think that Diefenbaker was in on it.

In the days that followed, Fraser left Diefenbaker home with strict instructions to act like a gentleman, while he and Ray argued about the wisdom of crating Daisy while they were gone. Ray insisted that she was not destructive, but Fraser feared for the safety of anyone breaking into the apartment. Both Rays told him that was the point.

“She’s a guard dog, Frase. That is her job.” Ray kept pointing at Daisy and then at the window, as if indicating that someone might be crashing through it at any moment. Daisy fixed Fraser with a solid, intimidating gaze, as if trying to impress upon him that she knew her duty. Dief’s continued insistence that her protectiveness was an indication of her strong maternal instinct did little to convince Fraser of either animals’ sincerity.

“Anyway a crate big enough for her will take up half the living room, Benny. Not that there is any décor, as such, to ruin…”

“I do not need your help here, Vecchio.”

In the end they agreed to close off the bedrooms and bathroom, and put a “Beware: Guard Dog” sticker on the window facing the fire escape. It worked well enough, in that Daisy kept to the living room and kitchen while they were all gone, and did not even try to breach the defenses Ray Vecchio installed to insure Mack’s safety in the spare room. Most the Rays’ conversations were taken up with that matter.

“Wow, Fort Knox. So where’s the gold?”

“The safety of my cat is my highest priority, as opposed to the safety of second rate detectives who think they are funny…”

“I get it, you think the Duck Boys are going to break in and hassle your cat.”

“See this? This is me, not laughing.”

“Yeah, I see that every day. Real entertaining. Like those locks.”

“Steel bolts. Tell the Bride of Diefenbaker she’ll break her jaw if she tries to bite them.”

Fraser stepped into the hall. “Technically, Ray, Daisy is not Dief’s ‘bride’, in the sense that we would acknowledge a marriage contract. Although I’ve heard rumors that there is one tribe of…”

As he knew they would, both Rays groaned and the discussion broke up for the night. Fraser was pleased that his tactics were so effective, because really, there was no tribe anywhere he knew of that married dogs. Although he thought it might be interesting to check on that during his next trip to the library. Dief told him he was unhinged.

The week went by quickly, despite evenings that were generally low key and awkward. Ray Vecchio disappeared into his room most of the time, no matter what the invitation, leaving the other two men to live as if he was not even there. Which was impossible, because he _was_ there, which Ray Kowalski reminded Fraser of with the predictability of an automaton.

“Can’t you relax?”

“See, no, I can’t. Because two weeks ago, right here? You gave me a blowjob.” Ray pointed at the couch they were sitting on. “During the Hawks game. Or was it Leafs? I don’t know, I was busy getting my brains sucked out my cock.”

Fraser felt himself blush in several directions, which he knew was exactly the reaction Ray was aiming for.

“But see? Not any more. Because he’s here, and he might walk out, and find us all naked and sweaty and rubbing all over each other, kissing and licking and…”

“Ray.”

“What?”

“Bedroom.”

Afterwards, Fraser lay panting on his back, staring at the ceiling. “It was your idea to let him stay.”

“You…don’t…ugh…” Ray spoke into the pillow he was face down on.

“So I find it extremely unpleasant to be continually reminded how inconvenient it is for your sex life that he is here.”

“Jus’…bnah…”

“Particularly after that performance.”

“Heh.”

Fraser shook his head and rustled them both up and into underwear and robes, which was the extent to which he could ever get Ray dressed after early evening sex. Ray bumped around in his usual post-coital stupor, to the point that Fraser was the one using Ray’s cell phone to order pizza. He walked out into the living room and froze. The smell of popcorn immediately overpowered his senses, and he blinked at Ray Vecchio, who was on the couch watching television. Ray stumbled behind Fraser and nearly ran him down.

“Frase, move. What…” He stopped when he saw the other Ray, who looked back at them blankly. Fraser heard Sandor on the line and quickly placed the order, moving into the main room, out of Ray’s way, but he just stood there blushing. Fraser stared at him because he had never, ever seen Ray blush.

“You, uh, been out here long?” Ray asked, ducking his head without breaking his gaze.

Ray leaned back on the couch and laughed at him. “Shy, _Stannnnnley_?” He started laughing even harder, and Ray’s skin went from blush to fury.

Fraser realized belatedly that every time they had made love recently, Ray Vecchio was out of the apartment or two rooms over. This was the first time he had really been in a place where he could _hear_ them, and it had not been as if Ray held back on his pleasured moans earlier, either. Fraser dealt with his own embarrassment by striding proudly into the kitchen to do…something. Ray was still laughing on the couch, which Fraser thought was more than a bit insensitive.

“Shut up!”

“Don’t worry. I can’t compete with your range or volume.”

Fraser forced himself back out into the room just in time to stop Ray from launching himself at the couch. “Shut up!” Ray yelled again, but this time Ray stopped laughing.

“Jeeze, calm down. I was bored and I thought you two called it a night. Which you did. Loudly.”

“Ray, please…” Fraser kept shoving bodily at Ray, who was vibrating with humiliation.

Ray shoved off Fraser and stalked back to the wall, as if a bell had rung in a boxing ring. Fraser turned to Ray on the couch, who was back to looking at them blankly. Fraser opened his mouth, but Ray waved a handful of popcorn at him.

“I get it. Your house; you’re not used to sharing.”

“Yes.” Fraser nodded, angling to keep himself between the Rays.

“But you know what? I am. Ange and I got back from our honeymoon and moved into the same room I grew up in, which was right next to my younger sister’s room and down the hall from my mother. Maria and Tony? They got kids for a reason, and there is nothing quiet about those two. Not like I haven’t heard Frannie with her boyfriend of the week she snuck in up the back stairs.” Ray said as if lecturing to a class of new recruits. “So you can be all embarrassed and humiliated, but me? I’m used to it.”

Fraser just blinked at the old-world pragmatism for a moment before rallying his thoughts. “That’s a very interesting perspective, but neither Ray nor I were raised in such an environment, and, ah…” Fraser stalled, genuinely stalled, and Dief snorted unhelpfully at him from where he was paying homage to Daisy.

“Yeah, I get that. But here I am. You expect to lock me away like my cat all the time?”

“Yeah!”

“Ray, please.” Fraser turned to Ray, whose hands were twisted in his robe. He still looked hostile, but Ray’s explanation seemed to have dismantled the worst of his displeasure.

“Look, whatever. I’ve heard it all before, nothing you two can do will bother me, so just get over it.” Ray ate some popcorn and turned back to the movie.

“Oh like you aren’t getting off on listening to us!” Ray accused, and Fraser blushed again, because that was something he had never even considered. He looked over, and shuddered. The look Ray leveled at both of them was cold, hard, and ruthless, and there did not seem to be an ounce of the genuine Ray Vecchio in residence.

“I’ve watched goombas fucking hookers in a _line_, for a _bet_. Once had a guy suck me off _while I signed a contract_ in a room with five lawyers and the Feebs listening in. You name it, I’ve done it, and believe me, Kowalski, it isn’t as much fun as it looks in the pornos you hide behind Fraser’s second hand encyclopedia set.”

The silence descended like a wet, heavy net over them. Daisy, who was in the lounger, looked up and grumbled at the charged atmosphere, which seemed to break the tension.

“We’re okay, girl. C’mon, I got a snack for you.” Ray said and walked into the kitchen without further comment. Daisy lumbered off the chair and followed him, leaving Fraser looking at Ray, who had turned back to the movie.

“Ray, I…”

“Forget it, Benny. Just you guys got to get used to it while I’m here.”

“Yes, of course. Provincial of me to think…anyway, you’re right. But you do need to allow for a period of adjustment for us. Neither Ray nor I are used to sharing our personal space.”

Ray shrugged and nodded without breaking eye contact with the television.

Ray came out from the kitchen, trailing an adoring Daisy, who trailed her own adoring Diefenbaker. Fraser stood aside as Ray went and flopped on the couch, on the opposite end from Ray. Daisy took the cue and crawled up between them.

“Oh my God, tell the house horse to get down!”

“I washed her yesterday, she’s clean.”

“Her butt is on me! I do not need dog butt on my clothes!”

“Best piece of ass you’ll get all year, Vecchio. Shut up.”

“Hey! Nose out of the popcorn!”

“Leave her alone.”

“I was talking to YOU, moron.”

Ray chewed a handful of popcorn with his mouth open.

“You are so classy, no wonder Turnbull has a crush on you.”

“Take that back, Vecchio.”

“You are talking over _Bogart_, philistine.”

“Yeah? Oh, shit yeah, _Maltese Falcon_!”

They both went quiet to watch the movie while Fraser continued standing in the middle of the room, confused.

\--------------

The turnaround in the household was instantaneous after the showdown. Fraser still was not absolutely sure of the dynamics of what happened, despite Dief’s repeated explanations, and simply accepted that things had changed. Ray Vecchio was suddenly _there_, all the time, getting ready for work with them in the mornings and taking over the kitchen at night. Dief shrugged and said that it was psychological displacement: Ray had no access to his own family, so he was treating them as if they were his family. Daisy took it in stride, and Fraser wondered if this was all going back to the whole ‘pack’ metaphor he had been avoiding. Dief said it did, and that what they really needed now was some puppies.

In any case, the end result was that Ray began channeling the essence of Italian mothers everywhere. In the mornings, as they all got ready for work and Daisy and Diefenbaker circled like sharks, craving affection and food crumbs, Ray Vecchio steered the household ship as if he had been born captain. Or fishwife; Fraser was not too sure.

“You got your badge? Your gun? Don’t forget that stupid bracelet you love so much. Benny! Remember we are meeting for lunch at 11:30, I don’t want to be standing at Vinnie’s Subs by myself looking like an idiot. Kowalski, no, just no. Change your shirt, pink is not in this season. Or any season. Not for a cop.”

“Pixies! It’s a band! I like this shirt…”

“Pink shirt, Pixies – God, you want to just tie a pride flag to your dick? Shoo. Go change.”

“Motherfucker, I’m wearing my Clash shirt just for you.”

“If it isn’t pink and it doesn’t smell, I don’t care.”

“You will live to regret that comment, Ray.” Fraser tried to step over Daisy, who moved, and he barely caught himself on a dining chair.

“How come I’m not invited to lunch?” Ray whined as he tangled up his shirt with his holster.

“One of us has to come home and check on the dogs, and today that is you.”

“I don’t remember volunteering for that.” Ray’s muffled reply came from somewhere inside the shirt as Fraser unbuckled the holster and helped him pull it off.

“We ALL volunteered for that, remember?”

Fraser nodded. “True.”

“Do not side with him, Frase. Do NOT side with him.”

“Shirt first, Ray, then holster.” Fraser pushed him to the bedroom, shocked that even with getting up before six am, they might all be late for work at this rate. Again.

Every day was the same, with Vecchio and the dogs hauling everyone up before dawn. As used to waking up early and fast as he was, Fraser realized that he had sunk into lazy lethargy over the past few years living with Ray. Or perhaps he was just getting old. Either way, creaking into the kitchen at just past six am, he knew that he was now paying a steep price for his sins.

Saturday, Ray and the dogs let them sleep in until seven am. The trade was Daisy executing a full body slam onto their entwined, prone forms the second Ray opened the door to their bed room.

“KNOCK, mutherfucker!” Ray yelled, wrestling with Daisy as she tried to lick him.

“Hey, day’s half over. I was thinking we could maybe see about getting some of the junk out of my room…”

Fraser was nodding in reluctant agreement as he put his feet on the floor.

“Yeah, then maybe you can tell me why the hell Stella called Ma to tell her you’re queer. I think we can work that in between breakfast and the park.”

The only noise in the room was Daisy trying to burrow under the blankets.

“Hey, you want me gone, Kowalski, I’ll take Mack and leave. Right now.”

“Just knock before you walk in.”

“Sure.” Ray slowly closed the door and Fraser heard him walking down the hall to his room.

“Ray, that was uncalled for.”

“It was very called for. He’s not respecting our privacy at all.”

Fraser had to agree, but he was not happy about how the matter was being handled. “Let me talk to him. It seems reasonable to set up personal boundaries, here, if we are all going to be living together.”

“ARE we all going to be living together?” Ray gave him the evil eye.

“For now, yes. You were the one who argued clemency, if I remember correctly.”

Ray got up, pushing Daisy aside so he could get dressed. “Yeah, I did. Fine. It’s just too early for this shit.”

Fraser put on his sweats and opened the bedroom door. Daisy shot out and went to join Diefenbaker in sitting in front of the guest room, which was shut up tight. Fraser knocked.

“Ray?”

“Yeah, door’s open.”

Fraser sidled in, shoving the dogs off with his foot so he could get inside. He found Ray sitting on the bed, a suitcase open but empty at his feet.

“Ray…”

“I’m sorry, okay? Jesus, just, it’s not like that at home. Everyone gets up. You’re not up, Ma walks in. She’s that way with Maria and Tony; was like that with me and Ange, before we got our own apartment. But I’m here…” He waved his hand around, still staring at the suitcase. Fraser heard the door open behind him, but Ray was oblivious, and kept talking. “And now I can’t go home. Armando, he was a morning person, I had to learn to wake up every morning at 4:45 am after going to bed at two. That fucker never slept. I took cat naps in the afternoon, sometimes in the limo on the way to a meet. Everyone blamed my naps on the accident, thank God, but I don’t know how Armando did it. He never slept. So now I wake up at five and I can’t get back to sleep, and I’m waiting for Ma to come open the door and tell me the coffee’s ready…” He looked up and saw Ray standing behind Fraser, and blinked.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I’m grumpy in the morning, don’t you know that by now?” Ray’s voice had the same soft tone he used with witnesses of violent crime, and Fraser thought the analogy apt.

“No, you got a point, and you know what? You got a right to know.” Ray sat up straighter and looked them. “Benny knows this already, but I know he wouldn’t tell you: I cheated on Stella. More than once. And with guys.” He paused to let that sink in, then took a deep breath. “She walked in after closing hours one night. I thought she was already home. She found me bending some college surfer kid over the desk.”

Fraser cringed, and heard Ray take a sharp intake of breath behind him.

“That’s messed up, Vecchio. I should beat the crap out of you.”

“Someone should.”

There was a long silence as Ray vibrated next to him, and Fraser prepared himself to physically intervene in the almost-certain fight that was one hairsbreadth from occurring. Then Ray sighed explosively and grunted. “Nah, that would rob you of the chance to spend the rest of your life feeling guilty about it.” He turned to walk out, then stopped, his eyes narrowing. “Stella wouldn’t just call to tell Ma that.”

Ray shook his head, and went back to staring at the suitcase before answering.

“I think she was more mad at me for lying about it than for fucking around. She told me to ‘fess up with the family, come out of the closet, all that crap. Insisted it would be good for me. I don’t know what world she lives in, but she has no clue about Old World Italian Catholics.”

“Yeah, she always considered my neighborhood as some kind of exotic field trip,” Ray nodded, then leaned against the door for less than a second before bouncing up and nearly knocking Fraser onto the bed. “Shit. She’s still in love with you!”

Fraser snapped his attention back to Ray, who looked perplexed for a moment before his expression returned to world-weary resignation. “No.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah. She gets all busy-body when she cares, it’s why she and my mom get along so good, they are both the same. She’s in love with you, and wants to help.”

“No, you moron. She’s not in love with ME. She was never in love with me. Irony of my life, I meet the perfect woman and she falls for _Armando_.” Ray dropped his head into his hands.

“Damn.” Ray said softly from the door, then came around Fraser and sat down next to Ray on the bed. They were all very quiet for a few moments, then Ray snorted. “You know what, she should’ve known better.”

“How so, Ray? How could she know the difference?” Fraser finally found his voice. “It was simply a sad set of circumstance, a trick of fate…”

“Sure, whatever, Frase. But she was there, I mean THERE, after my very first undercover op in vice. It wasn’t long, six weeks, but I was under, way under. Like you can’t even imagine, Ben. Drugs, girls, monkeys…whatever. Drug bust, went down real sweet like clock work, no one even got a shot off. But I came home after that six weeks, and here Stella was about ready to bend steel with her bare hands, she was so stressed out worrying over me, and all I wanted was a cigarette. It was like she wasn’t even in the house. Took me two weeks to detox, get my mind back on right, and she was there every night and day while I acted like a fuckwad, yelling at her to shut up.”

Fraser stepped backwards in shock, but both Rays just sat silently on the bed.

“It was all attitude, you get that? Me, Mr. Big Man.” He laughed in a vicious, angry way. “She saw what happened, she lived with it before during and after, and that was just my first op. She SAW it. No way she did not have an idea of what Vecchio is going through. She just liked what she saw and hoped for the best. That’s not your fault, Vecchio.” Ray started rubbing Ray’s back, and the men molded their sides together. For a brief moment, Fraser felt invisible, cut out of a strange brotherhood he was glad not to be a part of.

“Frase, get over here.”

Fraser bounced forward and kicked the suitcase aside so he could sit next to Vecchio, who sat between them, still holding his head, while Ray and Fraser both rubbed his back and shoulders. Finally he breathed out and sat up.

“I’ll knock next time.”

“Yeah, you do that. Meantime the dogs probably pissed in the kitchen, and if I don’t get a cup of coffee here soon, I’ll be kickin’ some heads.”

\---------------

Machiavelli was still confined to Ray’s room, for everyone’s safety, which meant that Ray spent time every night closed off, reading the comics with the cat and brushing him out. Fraser was grateful, as it gave him and Ray some much needed alone time together as the following weeks wore on and they all settled into a stable domestic pattern. Although how alone they were with Diefenbaker and Daisy’s constant presence was debatable.

Daisy made no bones about being ‘Ray’s Girl’ as he called it, but clearly identified Fraser as the pack alpha and as such, deemed it necessary to show her esteem for him by constantly trying to climb into his lap. Her preferred arrangement was to sprawl over Ray’s legs with her head in Fraser’s lap while they were on the couch, although Fraser had never seen such bliss on a dog’s face as the evening when he tucked into the corner, placing Ray between his legs as a defensive measure. Daisy simply crawled up into Ray’s lap, her head on his chest, so she could gaze happily at Fraser while listening to Ray’s heartbeat.

“Can you feel your legs, Ray?”

“Shut up, she’s happy.”

“I’m sure.”

“Jealous much, Fraser?”

“Not at all. But she does happen to weigh quite a bit.”

“107 pounds of love, Frase.”

“She will be when she goes into heat.”

“No, don’t start that again.”

“It would be for the best.”

“You’re not fixing Dief, and we are not fixing Daisy. She wants puppies.”

“YOU want puppies. You are clearly sublimating your desire for children with this whole situation. If I harbored a tendency for conspiracy theories, I would assume Diefenbaker and Turnbull put you up to this.”

“Her last litter was taken from her and she has no idea if they are even alive anymore.” Ray stroked her back and Fraser would have sworn she was purring. “She wants a chance to be a good mother.”

Dief rose up from his position next to the couch and stared at Daisy. Ray glanced at him. “I think we got a volunteer.”

“We are not discussing this further, and Diefenbaker, lie down.” Fraser picked up the remote and prayed for a good documentary on the Discovery Channel. In retrospect, he thought that the overwhelming sense of domesticity and calm should have been a warning to him.

The following Friday, Ray was late. He left a message saying that he did not know when he would get in, and to explain to Daisy that he was okay. Fraser listened to the message twice.

“He didn’t give a reason.”

“Benny, he’s a grown boy. Welsh just probably pulled him into some stakeout or something.”

“Did you hear of anything?”

“You know they’ve got me liaising with the Feds. I spent most of the day at City Hall arguing with dimwits.” Ray was setting the table. It had become a fast tradition that he arranged dinner, whether by cooking himself or ordering in. Fraser and Ray learned not to get in his way when it came to food, but Ray moaned that he could not find his Captain Crunch anymore, hidden as it was behind boxes of pasta and gallon tins of stewed tomatoes and five pound bags of flour.

Fraser shrugged unhappily and went to walk the dogs. Daisy was very comfortable in her harness by now, and since Dief did not need to be on a leash, it was easy for Fraser to take them by himself. The false sense of security was the only excuse he had when Daisy barked, yanked on the leash, and ran off at top speed without him. Fraser and Dief ran after her at full throttle, but for a dog who (Ray claimed) got side stitches at a fast jog, she tore down the streets like a demon possessed.

Fraser completely lost sense of exactly where they were headed, even though he knew north was over his right shoulder. They had taken more than a few turns and twists, Dief barking the whole time. No one was willing to throw themselves in the path of a manic Rottweiler, so their run was clear the whole way. Finally Daisy made the fatal error of running into a building, and Fraser barreled in after her, heedless of the nature of the establishment. They all came to a crashing halt – literally, right into the table that Ray was propped up on. The table fell over as Fraser collided into Daisy, and Diefenbaker leapt up on Ray, toppling them both down. Fraser grabbed Daisy’s harness and dragged her backwards while Ray yelled at Dief to stop _licking_ him, but Daisy was more interested in getting to Ray herself, and Fraser was just along for the ride.

“Hey! What the hell are these dogs doing in here?!” A very large man, possibly the bartender, walked over carrying a bat.

“Please excuse us, sir. My dog got away from me and we are just trying…to get…her out…” Fraser kept trying to drag Daisy, but she was steadfastly attached to Ray.

“Looks more like she’s trying to eat him.” The bartender pointed the bat at Ray, who was getting a maternal face washing.

“She’s MY dog, not his. She’zzz jus’ worried…awwwww, good girl…” Ray’s voice was thick and slurred, and Fraser realized instantly that he was drunk. Very, very drunk.

“Dogs gotta go, against health regulations.” The bat was hanging loosely in the large man’s hands, but his voice was not a wit less threatening.

“Certainly. Allow me to collect my friend…”

“Fraaaazzzzzzzzzzzzer!” Ray rolled onto his back and Daisy sat on him, smiling happily.

“Yeah, ‘certainly.’ You do that. Now.” The bat was swinging gently and while Fraser did not really feel threatened, he did not want the matter to escalate. He thought the word ‘alpha’ over and over and pointed at Daisy.

“Move. Now.” Fraser picked up her leash and tugged lightly on it, and she bounced off of Ray quickly. He turned to Dief. “Out.” Finally he turned to Ray. “Up.”

Ray blinked at him in surprise and started crawling up off the floor. Fraser turned to the large man who was still hovering. “This is my card, we will gladly pay for any damages incurred while…”

“What the hell are you, Canadian? Get out!”

Fraser dropped the card and grabbed Ray under his shoulders, tugging him along to the sidewalk where Dief sat, laughing. That apparently did not sit well with Daisy, who leaned forward and snapped her jaws in his face. Chastised but unrepentant, Dief flounced off, tail up and mocking them. Daisy turned to Fraser.

“He has a taste for schadenfreude, I’m afraid.”

Daisy whuffed and went back to shoving Ray along the sidewalk with her shoulders. It was a surprisingly effective tactic.

They fell into the apartment to face off with a very annoyed Ray Vecchio, who became a very angry Ray Vecchio when he saw Ray’s condition. Ray had not done more than mumble at Daisy during the long stumble home, and was flushed and quiet now.

“Dinner! I make dinner for you ingrates and he goes out _drinking_?”

“ShutupVek-yo.” Ray pulled himself out of Fraser’s grip and stumbled for the couch, Daisy pushing him along. Fraser wondered if there was any history of animal herding in the genetic ancestry of Rottweilers, or if Daisy was just maternal by nature (as Diefenbaker continually insisted).

“What is this, Benny?” Ray waved a hand angrily at where Ray tripped and fell onto the couch.

“I don’t know. Daisy broke loose and we had to chase her down. She found Ray at an establishment on the southside, in this inebriated condition.” Fraser felt his temper bristling now that the situation was firmly in hand. He forced himself to go sit at the table and stilled his hands before he started breaking plates out of sheer frustration.

Ray turned and walked to the phone. Fraser heard him call Welsh, confirm that he had not requested Ray to stay late for any reason, then heard him exclaim loudly, “He left work WHEN?” He slammed the phone down and turned to Fraser, his hands on his hips. “He clocked off at three this afternoon. Welsh hasn’t heard from him since.”

“He’s been drinking for four hours?” Fraser said, trying not to sound surprised, his nascent anger quickly morphing back into confusion and worry.

“Well look at him. What do you think?” Disgusted, Ray walked back into the kitchen and started banging things around.

Fraser got up and walked over to Ray on the couch, who was hunched over and babbling at Daisy. Fraser sat down and put his hand on Ray’s back, and finally heard was he was whispering.

“I’m so sorry, sorry, sorry, I am so sorry…” He sniffed, and Fraser realized he was crying. He pulled Ray into his chest and began rubbing his side.

“Ray, what’s going on?”

Ray pulled up, red faced and glazed. “Tomorrow. All the dogs…court order…every single one of them. Twenty dogs. Two…two of them are…are…Daisy’s…just puppies…” and he collapsed again, folding himself into Fraser’s embrace. Fraser looked up to see Ray watching. Sighing, Ray sat on the coffee table, facing them. Daisy jumped up and settled against Ray’s back, adding 50 kg of weight to Fraser’s chest, and he grimaced, trying to bear it manfully, despite the emotional drama playing out in his arms.

“Apparently, the dogs impounded from the dog fighting ring are being put down tomorrow. I imagine Ray found out about it and has taken it rather…hard.”

“I’m going!” Ray sat up abruptly, dislodging Daisy. “I’m going…I’m going…”

Fraser was not entirely sure what he meant. “Going where?”

“To watch…witness…someone should, I need to be there…”

“No you don’t Kowalski.” Ray’s voice was hard as steel, and his expression was flat and closed in a look that was becoming disconcertingly familiar to Fraser.

“I got to…you don’t understand…” Ray looked over at him, confused.

“The hell I don’t. You listen to me: it won’t help.” Ray moved forward on the table and grabbed Ray’s knees with a vice grip, making him yelp in pain. “You think it will, you think bearing some kind of witness to it will make a difference, but it won’t. They’ll die either way, and you will only feel even more helpless than you do now. You’ll watch the life bleed out of them, and you’ll feel like you’re dying yourself, but it isn’t even penance, you get me? You get me, Ray? They’ll be dead and you’ll be alive and it won’t even matter anymore, it won’t have made a difference and you’ll never wash that guilt off your hands or the memory out of your brain of standing there watching them die.” Ray leaned back, letting go, and scrubbed a hand over his head. The room was deadly quiet, and Fraser realized that the Ray in his arms had gone unnaturally still. “You’ll dream about it, you’ll have nightmares. And it won’t change anything.”

Ray breathed out quietly, as if afraid to stir the air. “Yeah, okay. I get it, Vecchio.”

Ray stood up, pushing the coffee table back with his legs. “So you are not going tomorrow. It’s Saturday, none of us have to work. We’ll take the dogs, we’ll go to that state park Benny likes so much, let the puppies run around, eat sandwiches and listen to stories about caribou blubber.”

“Caribou don’t have blubber, Ray,” Fraser answered instinctively, only realizing after the fact that Ray had riled him on purpose to break the somber mood.

“Sure, Benny.” He smiled. “Now if we want to get him up before noon, you need to feed him some aspirin, a glass of water, and dump him into bed. I’ll get a plate ready for you after you tuck Junior in.” Ray waved his hands over them as if in benediction and walked back into the kitchen. Ray turned a little in Fraser’s arms and looked up at him, blinking in forced sobriety.

“I don’t think he waz talking about dogz.”

“No, I don’t think he was,” Fraser said solemnly. “Come on. Daisy, bed.” Fraser pointed and she shuffled into the bedroom, her docked rump shaking in an aborted wag. Dief looked after her longingly as Fraser pulled Ray up. “No, absolutely not. Ray needs companionship, not a side show.”

“He LOVES her.” Ray giggled.

“And I love you.” Fraser kissed his temple as they stumbled awkwardly into to the bedroom. Ray was out as soon as Fraser got him to down the proscribed aspirin and water. He went out and ate a quiet dinner with Ray in companionable silence until Machiavelli started yowling in despair at being ignored.

“Ray, I’m going to close the door to our bedroom. You could let Machiavelli out into the main rooms for a while.”

Ray gave him a glare. “Dief better not hassle my cat.”

“Diefenbaker gets along very well with cats. It’s Daisy I’ve been concerned with. But they need to adjust to each other, for the sake of our household.” Fraser stood up and collected their plates, ignoring Ray’s gobsmacked expression.

“Our household, Benny?”

“Yes, Ray.” Fraser went and cleaned up the kitchen. He looked up from drying the dishes and felt Ray slide in next to him.

“Means a lot to me. Taking me in like this.”

Tired of his confusion and fears, Fraser slapped the towel onto the counter, turned, and drew Ray to him. They stood in a careful embrace, hands not wandering, heads resting together for a long while, until Fraser felt himself relax and their bodies pressed together familiarly.

“Do you have nightmares, Ray?” Fraser whispered into the fragile skin behind Ray’s ear. Ray shuddered a little, but remained still otherwise.

“Yeah, Benny. I do.”

“I’m so sorry, what they made you do. Duty has its limits.” Fraser tightened his grip, feeling like he was trying to drag Ray away from all the terrible things he had live through in Vegas.

Ray did not answer, just tightened his grip too for a moment before breaking off. He went to let Machiavelli out, and they settled down to read in the living room. Dief carefully trailed the cat at a distance for a while, then bounded into Ray’s room.

“He’s probably on your bed, Ray.”

Ray did not look up from his issue of _Classic Car Collectors_. “Guess I should get used to that.”

“Yes.” Fraser returned to Dostoevsky as Machiavelli walked along the back of the chair and sniffed his ear.

\---------------

“I hate this. This sucks. Look! Sun! I hate you.”

“Hate the sun, or hate me, Ray?”

“Yeah.” Ray pulled the hat lower on his head, as if to ward off the glare of the sun. It was still technically winter, but on the lower edges of the mountain, snow was melting and the woods were very much alive with birdsong and the rustlings of small mammals. As far as Fraser was concerned, it was a pleasant spring day. Diefenbaker was running circles around them as their little troop marched up the very well maintained, multi-use trail. For Fraser it was akin to hiking along a highway, but it was close enough to wilderness for the Rays.

“Is this the death march of Bataan? How much further?” Ray griped from behind him, and Fraser began to wonder at the wisdom of this endeavor.

“This was your idea, Ray.”

“You could have stopped me. That’s what friends are for, to stop friends from _hiking_.”

“Could be worse.”

Ray in front of him yelled something like ‘arrrggghhhh NO!’ and the Ray behind him cursed.

“You know better than to say that, Benny! Next we’ll come across some teak wood smuggling ring and have to chase them for miles through uncharted territory.”

“Now you are being excessive, Ray, this is hardly wilderness. You have the trail map right there in your hands. And teak does not grow this far north.”

There was another ‘arrrggghhh’ from in front, and more stomping. Fraser smiled.

They settled for lunch in a small clearing, and Fraser built up a nice fire to ward off the frostbite that both Rays deemed immanent in the balmy weather. Daisy was harnessed and on her leash and was fine with the limitation, being somewhat cowed by the wilderness around her. Dief kept returning to her side in a form of protective reassurance, but she remained skittish and nervous near the fire.

“I don’t think that’s a wilderness dog you got there, Kowalski.” Ray said mockingly, pulling plastic bins out from the food pack that Fraser had carried the whole way.

“She wasn’t ever allowed out of her crate, except to do her business in some fenced-in yard,” Ray said softly as he petted her head, which lay adoringly over his thigh. Fraser looked over sharply, hearing the regret and sadness in his lover’s voice.

Ray looked up from the food and walked around the fire to Ray and Daisy, crouching down with a hand on Ray’s shoulder. “You got her out. Just remember that. It’s like she got a second chance, and that’s down to you. Okay?”

Ray looked up at him and squinted, holding the moment before speaking. “Maybe you got a second chance too, huh?”

Ray stood up so fast Fraser thought he was going to trip, and sped back over to the food. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the one barred from setting foot in the house I own.”

“That’s not what I mean, Vecchio.”

Fraser held his breath. He had been inspecting wood suitable for the fire from what they had gathered, assuming that this was going to be their ‘base camp’ for the rest of the afternoon. Ray kept opening the storage containers and mixing and matching.

“Don’t know what you mean, then, Kowalski. I’m on my second divorce, not my second chance.” He got an evil grin and looked straight at Ray. “But you know, I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

Fraser flinched in the dead quiet moment that followed before both Rays started howling in laughter. Dief joined in with his own howls and Daisy let out a few whuffled barks to the chorus. Fraser smiled and felt his heart go light as it had not done in a while, his worries and concerns floating away on the laughter of the men he loved, his _family_, here in the outside world where everything natural was true and right.

Ray stopped and stared at him. “Jesus.”

Ray looked over and nodded. “Yeah, why do you think I put up with this camping shit anyway?”

Fraser looked back and forth between them, confused.

“Yeah, I get it, Kowalski. I sure as hell do.” Ray was blushing furiously and bent back down to work on the food. Ray was still petting Daisy, who had flopped over onto her back in canine ecstasy, but he snorted and smiled at him, and Fraser smiled back. He suspected they were discussing his looks – he knew he was considered very handsome, although the appeal of his rugged and thick-set physique escaped him. He was nothing compared to the lithe, graceful forms of the men in his company, who embodied the sophisticated elegance that Fraser had admired and despaired of his entire life. He did not understand his own appeal but reluctantly accepted it as charitably as he could. Bemused, he shrugged and went back to the firewood. He glanced up again to see his Ray giving him a long, thoughtful look, and Fraser raised his eyebrows in question, but whatever might have followed was derailed by a plane flying low over them, far off from regular flight paths and wobbling somewhat erratically as it kept sinking lower and lower.

“Bastards. Probably some training flight.” Ray looked up from the food, his green eyes narrowed in displeasure.

“I don’t think so, Ray.” Fraser stood up to better track the plane as it kept jerking along its course. “Actually, the movements of the plane would suggest that someone is fighting for the controls.”

“Right, because they are a student pilot and don’t know what the hell they are doing, Benny.”

“Ah, no, I did not mean ‘fighting the controls’, I meant ‘fighting FOR the controls.’ Someone is trying to crash that plane, and the pilot is doing everything he can to keep it aloft. Diefenbaker!” Without thinking, Fraser took off in the general direction the plane was headed, and heard the Rays yelling behind him.

“Fuck! Frase!”

“Benny! Damnit! Kowalski, my cell phone’s dead out here. Give me yours, I’ll call…somebody! GO!”

Fraser heard them shouting behind him, along with the loud crashing noise that was Daisy at full run. He knew that they could not keep up with him, but he figured his trail would be pretty obvious, and Dief was barking as well, so he kept going.

The plane went down in a small valley. Fraser heard the crash as he crested the small rise above it, and looked down. He was a good twenty to thirty minutes away from getting to the crash site, even going downhill, but it was the best he could do – and it would be at least an hour more after that before a rescue party could be put together and sent out from the forest rangers station. He heard Ray and Daisy distantly behind him, and knew they would catch up soon enough. Fraser judged the angle for a second and then started down hill at full speed, allowing the descent to give him momentum.

He approached from the front; the pilot had been able to ‘coast’ in relatively well, despite the terrain. The nose and prop were mangled, the windscreen shattered, blood trailing down. It was impossible to tell if the pilot – or anyone – had been ejected out through the window, until he got closer and saw a mangled body on the ground. Twisted around its torso was a strap attached to an automatic rifle, but the dead man wore no uniform that Fraser could see. He moved forward cautiously hunched down, until he reached the body.

The man had clearly gone through the window head first. Fraser checked for a pulse as a matter of procedure but was unsurprised to find none. He unclipped the gun from the strap and tucked it to him, noting by weight that it was fully loaded and that it would make a good bludgeon. Dief looked at him curiously, and Fraser motioned him back to the edge of the forest, to come around from the other side and wait for his signal. Dief bounded off. Fraser heard a voice from around the side of the crippled plane and quietly snuck up to it, taking cover behind one of the wings that had broken down but not fallen off.

“Stupid fucker! You coulda just taken us where we wanted to go, but no, you got to play superhero!” There was the sound of someone hitting something, and a grunt of pain. Fraser assumed that a second assailant was taking out his frustration on the pilot; it was not a good situation, but Fraser was glad that the pilot at least survived the crash. As he prepared himself to confront the malfeasant, he heard Ray and Daisy charging into the clearing.

“Hey! You two…alright…?” His voice trailed off and Fraser tensed, wondering if he waited too long. “Uh, you guys hunters?”

“You keep that dog under control, mister.”

“You got the gun, buddy. Whatever you say. C’mon, girl, let’s go back and…”

“Like hell, get your butt over here.”

Daisy growled.

“I told you keep him under control!”

“Calm down, okay? She’s a good girl, she’s on a leash, see? Better not get too close…”

“Tie her to that and get over here.”

“Sure, sure.”

Fraser heard movement. Ray was tying up the leash to something, and it said a lot to Fraser that he was not taking the chance to let her loose, or to try for the criminal himself. The gun Ray referred to was probably the same type as Fraser now cradled, and he frowned. A spray of bullets could get any number of them killed. What Fraser needed was containment. He was thinking furiously while Ray finished and started moving closer to the plane.

“You. Tie him up.”

“My leg’s broke, you bastard, what you…” An unfamiliar voice croaked in obvious pain.

“TIE HIM UP!”

“My hands, my hands, start with my hands…” Ray said soothingly, and Fraser imagined Ray sitting down next to the stranger with his hands held out helplessly. His blood boiled, but in that instant Daisy began a furious and truly violent rage. Her barks were harsh, loud, and frenzied, and Fraser was reminded of the moment when they first went into the warehouse to bust up the dog fighting, when Z-Boy had been insane with bloodlust. Ray must have tied her securely, because if sound was any gauge, she was utterly out of control.

“Jesus!” The gun man yelled, and Fraser went to walk around the wing but stopped. He saw movement to the side, and looked over to see Ray Vecchio crouching near a tree with Diefenbaker. Fraser looked at the gun he was holding like a bat in his hands, then back over to Ray and Diefenbaker. He quietly backed up, set the gun on the ground, and then advanced forward again. Ray nodded in immediate understanding, and he and Dief began a very slow circle to the front of the plane, out of the line of sight of the armed gunman holding Ray and the plane pilot hostage. Now it was a waiting game.

The gunman continued to yell at Ray about Daisy, telling him to shut her up, but Ray did not answer at first. Fraser heard some scuffling and finally Ray yelled back at his captor.

“I’m tied up and you got a gun on me! She’s pissed!”

“Shut her up or I shoot her!”

“YOU FUCK! Don’t! Don’t!” Ray went frantic and Fraser realized his time had run out. He surged around the broken wing.

“Halt!”

The gunman swerved off of Daisy and shot at Fraser, who had already rolled forward to the ground. The shots were wide in any case, and Fraser went to lunge at the shooter but stopped cold. Daisy was still barking and howling with rage, but the gunman had the barrel of his rifle inches away from Ray’s head.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you twitch and he gets it.”

Fraser decided he had served as enough of a distraction for now, and remained still. After a few tense moments, the gunman backed up a few steps, eyeing Daisy again.

“You need to put down the gun before anyone gets hurt.”

The gunman, Ray, and the injured pilot looked at him as if he was insane, but Fraser was used to that. He soldiered on, trying to keep anyone from getting shot while he gave Ray Vecchio time to get to the other gun. He heard movement in the field on the far side of the plane, and he judged that he only needed to keep the standoff for a few more minutes.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to place you under arrest. Please put the gun down.”

Confused, the gunman pointed the gun at everyone in turn. “You’re COPS?”

“Yeah, you stupid motherfucker, so put the gun down and let the nice Mountie arrest you.” Ray said, pointing at the gunman despite his bound wrists, and Fraser flinched.

The gunman stepped forward and placed the barrel right up against Ray’s head, and Daisy renewed her fury. Ray had tied her to broken part of the plane’s tail, and her continued lunging at her harness was making the whole thing shudder. Despite the frozen tableau, her wrath added an element of chaos and they all turned in surprise when Ray Vecchio’s voice yelled over Daisy’s din.

“Put it down! Put it down, you are under arrest! Put it down!” He was standing near the wing, the gun held steady in his hands while he aimed it at the gunman, Dief growling and crouched low next to him. As the criminal turned to take in the third interloper, Ray Kowalski shot his hands up and knocked the barrel of the gun away from his head. Instinctively the gunman pulled the trigger, and two guns went off.

In the stunning silence that followed, Fraser did not remember anything but how the gunman looked sprawled at Ray Kowalski’s feet, dead from a single shot through the head. Slowly sound trickled back into his awareness and he looked at Ray sitting on the ground, hiding behind his bound hands, and the pilot who apparently passed out next to him.

“Shit.” Ray peeked over his hands. Fraser stepped forward to untie him, but was pushed aside as Ray Vecchio shouldered by him, shoving the gun in his hands. Fraser grabbed it before it fell to the ground.

“He could have shot you, moron!”

“You were taking your time! I did not want a hole in my head!”

“Who taught you to muscle your way around a gun? Huh? You think that was smart? You’re lucky the gun didn’t go off the second you moved! You could be DEAD! Do you get that?”

“I’m not dead, Vecchio, in case you missed that part!”

“You ever do anything that stupid again and I’ll shoot you myself!” Ray leaned over, grabbed at Ray’s jacket, yanked him close, and kissed him, hard and angry and fierce. Ray startled in surprise, but then relaxed into it and let Ray kiss him, even seeming to give back a little. Fraser stood frozen in shock while he watched his lover’s mouth being plundered by his best friend, and it was several long seconds before they finally pulled apart.

“So hey, Vecchio, miss me?” Ray smiled the broad, sneaky grin that Fraser thought was his alone as he pushed Ray off.

“Shut up.” Ray slapped the back of Ray’s head and stomped off, cursing in Italian and refusing to look at Fraser even as he grabbed the gun back from him. Which on the whole was acceptable, because Fraser was busy staring at Ray. He walked over to him cautiously, got down and untied his hands without saying anything.

“I, uh, didn’t expect that, Frase.”

“Neither did I.” Fraser said, trying to sound thoughtful, although his voice was a bit too high-pitched for that and he winced.

“Just, you know, adrenaline. He’s hyped up. So, uh, don’t get mad at him.”

Fraser shook his head, but fixated on Ray’s slightly wet and kiss-swollen lips. “No.”

“Yeah.” Ray scooted in closer, and Fraser reached out to draw him in. “You know, adrenaline rush…”

“Yes.” Fraser kissed him, softly at first, his tongue licking out to taste…both Rays, in Ray’s mouth. His body reacted to the flavor before his mind did, and he heard Ray squawk as Fraser locked his arms around him in a tight grip, straddling his lap. They stayed like that, Ray gasping for breath as Fraser tried to drag him closer and closer by increments.

“Would you two give it a rest? I get the message. Jeeze. Anyway that’s a helicopter, bat ears.”

Fraser broke off to what was, in fact, a rescue helicopter coming down over the rise. He looked over to where Ray was tending the still unconscious pilot. “Ah. Thank you.”

Fraser still had Ray in a crushing hold, but Ray pushed off of him with a guilty, angry expression. He untied his legs, refusing Fraser’s assistance, and with a final nasty look at the dead gunman went to calm Daisy down. As Fraser went to help with the pilot, he thought that Ray was purposefully keeping Daisy far away from them in an effort to avoid everyone.

When the helicopter came in for landing, Fraser stood up and walked over to Vecchio, who had moved away and was still cradling the gun. Fraser opened his mouth to ask about the kiss, but Ray sighed, dropped his head and started talking first.

“Sorry I had to shoot him, Benny. I didn’t know if…if he had shot Kowalski…”

“I don’t believe you had much choice.”

Ray looked at him hopefully. “Yeah?”

“The man was obviously unbalanced.” Fraser nodded towards the body, realizing that he did not regret the death as much as he should. He had been scared for Ray as well. Desperate to say something to cover his own discomfort with his feelings, he did what usually worked so well in these situations and stated the obvious. “It was a good shot, Ray.”

The praise did not land well. Ray all but broke the gun as he swiftly unloaded it and disassembled it like a professional sniper, laying the pieces out on the ground at their feet. Fraser just watched him, slightly shocked, and still Ray would not look at him.

“Armando was a gun freak. Had his own gun range, outside of town; went shooting there three times a week. I’ve fired every goddamn gun ever made.” He turned and walked off to great the rangers who emerged from the helicopter at a full run. Stunned, Fraser turned in a circle, looked back down at the gun parts at his feet, and finally found the brain cells to follow Ray over to great the rescue party.

The site was quickly filled with rescue personnel, forest rangers, and a U.S. Marshal who had been tracking the plane anyway, as the now-deceased pair of hijackers were both wanted for armed robbery three states over. Fraser found enough to keep himself busy assisting people at the scene, which kept kisses and Rays out of mind. The best that could be said of the whole day was that the pilot was alive and fairly well, aside from his broken leg.

When Fraser finally explained (in very hushed tones) what was bothering him to Diefenbaker as they all returned silently back to their makeshift camp several hours later (and Fraser was mortified to remember that they had left a live fire burning, and ended up jogging the whole way in a panic), the wolf hopped up and down, making fun of him. He reminded Fraser that the alpha in a pack got to mate with whomever he pleased. Fraser pointed out quietly that wolves traditionally mated for life, but Dief flicked his tail and told him not to be so old fashioned.

It was not a matter to be pursued, Fraser told himself sternly. At least, not for the time being.

\-----------------

“Sit!”

Fraser watched as Ray Kowalski went to drop to the ground before realizing that Fraser was talking to Daisy. Ray looked up from the newspaper he was reading and snickered.

“Good boy, Sonic.”

Ray gave him ‘the finger’ and walked back into the bedroom to finish getting dressed.

“I’m sorry, Ray, but Daisy is in the way and I was…” He tried calling after him but the bedroom door slammed shut. Fraser shook his head and returned to cooking. He was in charge of Sunday morning breakfast, as by unanimous vote – that being, by combined vote of the Rays – he made the best omelettes.

Ray shook the paper but did not look up. “Sometimes its easy to tell that he was married to Stella.”

“Ah.” Fraser said, focusing on the eggs, wondering if there was any politic answer to that comment. He decided not. Ray continued to pretend reading the paper.

“She’s like you. Pushy. Alpha.”

Fraser paused. “You consider me alpha?”

Ray finally looked up. “You got us both on short leashes, Benny. Yeah. It’s all you.” His comment was made offhandedly, but the expression in his eyes was doubtful and questioning.

“Wouldn’t that imply that we’re a pack?”

“Dief thinks so; he keeps trying to get Mack to knock the pastry boxes off the counter.”

Fraser nodded, glad to know he was not the only one who noticed that dynamic. “Still, Ray, we are three grown men, I would hardly think that a wolf pack dynamic would be a fair metaphor for a relationship of equals, as after all…”

“Family, pack, partners. Whatever, Benny.” Ray returned to the paper. “Someone’s always in charge.”

“And you think that’s me?” Fraser concentrated on the skillet, thinking that if he was really in charge, the laundry would have been done yesterday, and Daisy would be getting a bath before ‘sometime soon.’ It had been nearly six weeks since their adventure in the state park, and life had settled into a familiar, and Fraser had to admit, familial routine. The kiss between the Rays was not discussed or analyzed, at least not between them. Fraser spent an inordinate amount of time remembering watching them kiss, usually when Ray was held over on a stakeout and Fraser was alone in bed, which often required a late night shower before Ray got home. Fraser blushed.

“Nothing to get embarrassed over, Benny.” Ray sounded resigned.

Fraser mumbled something as he cooked, and he was not even sure what he said. He felt Ray watching him closely.

“Sorry, okay?”

“For?”

“You got uncomfortable when I talked about us as a pack. I just meant….hey, not trying to shoehorn in on you guys, okay?” He got up, folding the paper and setting it carefully aside, as if he was thinking about every move he made, and turned to walk back towards the bedrooms.

“How is counseling, Ray?” Fraser blurted out, and cringed. He wanted to keep Ray there, talking, but he had hoped his subconscious was better attuned to the situation than that.

“It’s great. Lots of fun. A real laugh riot.” Ray went very still.

“Please tell me you are not talking about the Duck’s club.” Ray finally walked back out of the bedroom, this time fully dressed. He eyed Daisy. “You being good? Catching all the crumbs? Good girl.”

“That is hardly part of her job description.”

“It brings her joy, Frase.” Ray nodded and sat down at the table, unfolding the paper. “Why are you just standing there?” He looked over at Ray, who had not moved a muscle. The silence dragged out and Fraser turned from the stove to look over at him.

“I’m moving out.”

Ray and Fraser looked at each other, and then back over to Ray. “Uh, Vecchio, that’s good. I guess. Didn’t know you found a place.” Ray shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable.

“I didn’t, not yet, but I started looking.” Ray still did not move or meet their eyes.

“You can stay as long as you need to, you know…” Ray tapped on the table.

“Yeah, thanks. No, I need to get my own life, can’t keep crashing on you guys.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Fraser turned back to the stove before anything started to burn, covering his own worry and surprise.

“Just a moment ago you were describing us as a pack.”

Ray perked up. “Hey yeah! A pack, that’s us! Why would you leave the pack?” He eyed Ray narrowly. “Have you talked about this with Mack?”

“Gotta go change if I’m going apartment hunting after breakfast.” Ray walked out and shut the door on his bedroom.

“Okay, Ben, what the fuck?” Ray turned to him.

“I think he might be feeling as if he is a third wheel in our relationship.” Fraser said quietly.

“So? He’s been alright with it so far.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with his therapy. His counselor might be…”

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit. He belongs here.” Ray pointed at the table.

“You seem very adamant about that.” Fraser knew he was poking at Ray, but he needed to understand what was going on himself.

Ray shrugged. “You want him here.”

Fraser turned to answer that when Ray returned, dressed to go out in dark slacks and an emerald green turtle neck. He was elegant and subdued, and Fraser smiled at him warmly, enjoying the sight of Ray so comfortable in their home.

“See? He walks in, you get happy.” Ray leaned back and crossed his arms defiantly, looking at Fraser shrewdly.

“Is breakfast ready yet?” Ray’s green eyes flashed between the other two men for a moment, but then focused neutrally on the table.

“You are not moving out, Vecchio. You? Stay.” Ray bunched up, uncrossed his arms and began pointing at Ray aggressively.

“Miss your Ritalin again this morning? Benny, you need to cut back on his sugar…”

“You are staying, got that?”

“Not your fucking problem, Kowalski. I’m moving.”

“Nope. Staying.”

“Moving.”

“Staying.”

“Moving, asshole.”

“You will fucking stay if I have to make Daisy sit on you.”

“Pervert.”

“Hey, she thinks you’re cute.”

“You are a nasty, filthy minded over-aged juvee, Kowalski. Now can we enjoy breakfast in peace, here?”

“Gentlemen…” Fraser sighed, rubbing his temples, the chain of events whipping out past his control or understanding.

“You leave, and Fraser will be miserable.”

“He’s got you. He’s happy, you’re happy, the dogs are happy…”

“He’s happy because you’re HERE. Because us, we, all of us are HERE. What, are you that stupid?’

“Don’t put this on me. You got what you wanted, you got Fraser. Leave me out of it. He’s happy enough without me around.”

Fraser opened his mouth to say something but Ray jumped up and began bouncing on his toes like a boxer.

“It’s because of us, numbskull. You. Me. Here.”

“Can it, Kowalski. I’m not rocking the boat. I gotta start my own life sometime.”

Ray shrugged elaborately, his arms out. “This is your second chance. Right here.”

“You? Just what I need, a skinny Polack with ADD.”

“No! Not…no, you don’t…yeah, okay, look…”

“Eloquent as ever, Kowalski. Fraser teaching you all those big words?”

“Fuck you, Vecchio. You’re breaking his heart!”

Fraser opened his mouth but stopped, unsure if he meant to agree or disagree with that statement, and silence fell over the three of them. The Rays were glaring at each other in mutual hostility and, Fraser thought, surprise.

“Watch what you’re saying around him.”

“You’re not my mother! And I know what I’m saying!”

“Don’t make this about him. Don’t. Be smart, Kowalski, take what you got and run with it.”

“It’s not all about you, Vecchio. Look at him.” Ray waved towards Fraser, who was feeling too numb to reply.

Ray shook his head and backed away. “We know I don’t belong here…”

“He loves you.” Ray snapped, then looked at the floor, and the table, and ran his hands through his hair until it was spiked up even more than usual. Fraser felt numb, stripped bare, scared that his secrets were so easily seen and understood.

“Now _you’re_ breaking his heart. Way to go, Sonic.” Ray walked over and pulled his long coat out of the front closet, his expression cold and blank. “Look, forget breakfast. I’m going out.”

“Stay. With us. With him,” Ray answered weakly, and Fraser frowned, unsure of what he was saying, but Ray stopped in the middle of putting on his coat and gave Ray a look of sheer, furious anger.

“Just like that, you’re willing to share? Stella told me about how you haunted her for a year after the divorce, _Stanley_. You’re the jealous kind. And believe me, with him…” Ray pointed at Fraser. “With him, I understand why. So drop it. You don’t want me around, believe me.”

“I’ve been jealous of you since the day I met the Mountie, okay? What difference does that make? At least here, like this, we’d be in on it together.”

Fraser blinked in shock as the penny dropped. “Ray, stop.”

“Pre-emptive, huh? Let me in on your little love nest so I don’t yank him out of it?” Ray’s voice was dry and brutal, his eyes dark with distrust, and Fraser saw the edges of Armando starting to crowd out his friend.

“Yeah, sure, if that’s how you want to think of it.” Ray frowned and crossed his long arms in front him, studying Ray like an untrustworthy bug. Fraser moved in between them.

“Ray, we’ve already asked Ray to live with us, we can’t force him to stay. Please stop.”

Ray shrugged as if he was casual about the whole matter, but Fraser could tell from the set of his shoulders that he was anything but. Fraser decided to nip the insanity in the bud.

“Is that what you really want, Ray? To divide me with Ray? Shall we make up a time share arrangement, then? Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays I’ll spend the night in his bed, and…”

“Stop it, Ben. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then I don’t understand what you mean at all.” Fraser crossed his arms defensively, feeling betrayed by Ray’s ‘offering him up’ like a slab of beef. “Is our relationship so flimsy that you feel warranted to ‘give’ me to Ray as, perhaps, a peace offering? Something to soothe your conscious or…

Ray paced the living room, Daisy clattering behind him, confused and worried. “That’s not what I fucking meant, so stop being pissy.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“You know, I got some say in this.” Ray stared at them both, his voice even, as he finished putting on his coat. He zeroed in on Ray, and they both remained completely motionless, squaring off. “I told you not to screw this up.”

“That was before I knew you wanted to screw him.” Ray pointed at Fraser, who felt his temper blow up before he understood what was happening.

“At this point I am not ‘screwing’ anybody! I don’t appreciate having my sexual attentions put up on the block and I don’t think this is fair to Ray…” he pointed to Ray Vecchio, who had crossed his arms and was looking at the floor, his expression tight and angry. “To tease him with something neither of us can have. This isn’t fair to anybody!” He turned his back to them and slapped his hands on the dining table, then turned back. Both Rays were staring at him in stony silence. “I’m going. For a walk. I need to be away from both of you right now. Diefenbaker, come.” He walked out of the kitchen and out of the apartment, forgetting even his hat. As he marched down the street, Diefenbaker bounded on ahead of him, and looked back, worried.

As walks went, Fraser realized it was circular in more ways than one. He felt ashamed of his attraction to Ray Vecchio, and mad that Ray Kowalski would value their monogamy so lightly, and angry at the universe for putting him into another situation that he had no control over and was surely headed for disaster. He ended up back where he started, and headed home a little more than an hour later. Ray Vecchio was gone but Machiavelli was spread over the top of the television like a fuzzy shawl, so Fraser assumed Ray had taken the path of least resistance and gone for a short walk himself. Or so he hoped. Ray was sitting at the table, one hand down to pet Daisy, and did not react at all when Fraser walked in. Fraser sat down across from him and Ray shifted uncomfortably.

“Guess I fucked up, huh?” Ray said, looking at nothing, a blank expression on his face.

“I’m not sure what I want to say.” Fraser admitted, folding his arms and staring at the wall.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I really didn’t. But I see the way you look at him, I know how you feel, and he…”

“Have you so little faith in me, Ray? That I would cheat on you? That I would destroy everything we have worked…so hard…” Fraser stopped, and tightened his arms.

“It’s not you, it’s me. Stella always said I drove her nuts, thinking she was leaving me every time she went to work…I mean, I never thought that about you, because you’re you. But Vecchio…man he wants you bad. And he’s got style, and class, and he’s a big damn hero for that undercover job. He’s like Supercop. It was hard enough living up to his rep when I was Vecchio, but now…” He shrugged. “When I took the job, everyone warned me about you.”

“What?” Fraser looked over at him, but Ray was glaring at the table.

“They said you would never buy me as Vecchio. You’d find a good excuse to stop being a liaison, because of me.”

“Ray, you already had three commendations to Ray’s one! I can’t imagine why anyone would say that, or why you would believe it. Those words did not come from Lieutenant Welsh.”

“Wasn’t really about the job, it was about him. He was your buddy, your friend, your partner. Everyone said you two were inseparable, and more than a few people thought you two were, you know, together. And they talked about you like you were some kind of super-hero. When they first told me of your and Veccio’s solve rate, I thought they were joking.” He took out one hand and scrubbed at his hair. “You know I met Vecchio before he went undercover.”

Fraser was surprised by that, as neither had ever mentioned it before.

“Yeah, just a few hours together, to shine up my cover. Meet the man, learn a bit about him first hand. Not as bad as him having to impersonate the Bookman, but still, pretty standard procedure, Frase. Anyway he spent most of that time talking about you, and what he’d do to me if I let you get hurt on my watch. Swear to God, Ben, I thought for sure you two were an item. Especially when you tried to measure my nose.”

Fraser nodded, still feeling numb but trying to follow Ray’s erratic logic.

“So I think you two are an item, then you aren’t, then we are, then he’s back, and I don’t…I don’t know where I stand. I mean, I do, but I don’t. I don’t know.” He shrugged again and stood up, but did not move away from the table. “Now he’s living here, and I get it, because hey, he’s pretty cool. For a style pig. Anyway you’re happier with him here, and you know I’ll try anything once, and I got to keep you happy, Ben. I got to, I can’t lose you, can’t have you walk out on me. And he’s not so bad, so I can do this. I can do this.” He nodded firmly, but refused to look directly at Fraser.

Fraser had nothing to say in the face of Ray’s deep-seated insecurities. He could only tell him he loved him so many times – he had given up _Canada_ to be with him, and Fraser could not think of anything more he could do, at this point.

“He kissed you, Ray. Not me.” Fraser said the first thing that came to mind, which rather surprised him, but he let it stand, because it was true.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about that. You liked watching.”

Fraser blushed deeply. “That’s not pertinent. I only mean to say…perhaps Ray Vecchio doesn’t know what he wants. He offered himself to me, in Florida, when he discovered my attraction for him. But it wasn’t Ray Vecchio making that offer, it was Armando Languostini, and I think Ray is still too wrapped up with Armando to properly judge his own needs or desires. Your offering my, ah, services, only confuses the matter more. And it cheapens our relationship.”

Ray walked away and stood by the window. “Yeah, okay, I get that.” He banged his head against the sill. “I suck.”

For the moment, Fraser agreed with him, so did not reply.

“I’m sorry?”

Fraser nodded, and Ray walked over and draped himself over Fraser’s back. Fraser knew the apology was coming, and tried not to anticipate how he would react.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into Fraser’s ear, and Fraser shuddered. “I’m really…really…sorry.” Ray’s hands snaked down Fraser’s chest, and lower. “I love you.”

“What would you have done had I accepted your offer? Assuming Ray was willing to take to me to bed, of course,” Fraser asked, putting his hands on the table. Ray stopped, and Fraser expected him to stand up straight and walk away. Instead he just remained still for a moment, then returned to his seductive ministrations.

“I guess the same thing I’m doing now.”

Fraser closed his eyes – in relief or fear or hope, he was not sure.

\-----------------

“Kill. The. Cat.”

“You know we can’t do that.” Fraser said, sitting up. They had spent most of Sunday in bed absorbed by slothful, erotic hedonism, and as evening approached, Fraser was almost glad that Machiavelli was yowling. The laundry really did need doing, including (now) their sheets. The cat, at least, was providing incentive to get up. “He’s probably hungry.”

“He’s probably psycho.”

“Just as well, we need to feed and walk Daisy and Diefenbaker.”

The noise from the lump in the bed was something between a whine and a groan. “Can’t walk.”

Fraser blushed. “I was hardly that…damaging.”

“Heh heh heh.”

Fraser nodded to himself, stood up, pulled the sheets up and proceeded to toss Ray onto the floor.

“HEY! Bad Mountie! Ow!”

Fraser smugly balled up the sheets, added them to the top of the pile in their hamper, and went for a quick shower. He was surprised that Ray Vecchio had yet to return to the apartment, although he also felt relieved as it put off any confrontation with him for a while. He needed to order his thoughts and figure out how to smooth over this incredibly awkward development. With that thought in mind, he decided he had not dumped Ray onto the floor anywhere near hard enough. This was all his fault and therefore Ray was going to be the one to fix it. Fraser did not possess a clue as to _how_, but that was just a piddling detail.

As he dressed and Ray gathered and sorted the laundry, Fraser fed Diefenbaker and Daisy and tried to feed Machiavelli, who was not the least bit interested in being fed from Fraser’s hand. He stood on Ray’s bed and continued yowling.

“For heaven’s sake, he has been gone for longer durations than this. Eat something.”

Machiavelli stopped yowling for a moment, glared at him, then started up again.

“Hopeless.” Fraser walked out of the room.

“What’s his problem?”

“I have no idea. Diefenbaker is too busy stuffing his mouth to explain, and Ray isn’t here to quiet him down, and I simply do not want Daisy involved at any level.” Fraser threw his arm out, mentally banishing the lot of them from his concerns.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

Fraser opened his mouth to object, but gave up and turned to the laundry. The only thing Ray had insisted on when they rented the apartment was that it have a full size washer and dryer set, and Fraser felt it was just another concession to his own mounting lethargy. He was beginning to fear a return to Canada and his grandmother’s wash basin. As he walked down the hall to the utility closet, he heard Ray murmuring something to the cat, but refrained from listening in. The yowling stopped, though, and Fraser sighed with relief.

With the laundry started, they dressed for the walk down to the park. Machiavelli sat on the back of the couch, not quite out of the reach of the dogs, but after several weeks of slow introductions, interventions and explanations, Daisy and Machiavelli came to terms with sharing the apartment. Daisy still eyed the cat with a mischievous gleam in her eye, but Ray kept her on good behavior. Many looks were exchanged while Daisy was fitted with her harness, which Fraser did not even think about, despite a few warning glances from Diefenbaker. When they opened the door to go out, though, Daisy sat down in the door way and refused to budge.

“C’mon, girl, we’re going for a walk. C’mon, c’mon…” Ray urged her, shoving with his legs, and in that split second Fraser figured out what Diefenbaker had been trying to warn him about.

“NO!” Fraser made a grab but the cat streaked out and down the hall.

Ray stood and stared, dumbfounded, leaning against Daisy.

“Diefenbaker! Follow!” Fraser pointed and Diefenbaker took off, leaving the humans in his wake. Fraser looked at Ray, who finally blinked and started waving his arms frantically.

“Go! Go! Go! Get Mack!”

Fraser tried.

\-------------------

By eight pm they were all huddled on a street corner in the chilly spring rain. Dief had lost the trail when the rain started, and now he and Daisy leaned against each other, soaked and thoroughly unhappy. Fraser felt no better.

“Hey, you take Dief back, Daisy and I will keep trying.” Ray pulled Daisy to him by her leash, and she got up to Diefenbaker’s protests in order to stand close to Ray. Fraser had followed Diefenbaker for three hours at nearly a full run and both of them were whipped; he felt lathered like a racehorse and the rain was not helping, despite how cold it was. It only made him think of Machiavelli’s dense, thick fur being soaked down to skin, and he shook his head.

“Stop arguing! Anyway someone needs to be there if the cat shows up,” Ray said soothingly, not mentioning that someone needed to be there when Ray Vecchio came home to find his cat gone. Fraser nodded dumbly and walked off, leaving Ray to it. Dief barked once to encourage Daisy but followed, complaining about his feet. Fraser heard retreating footsteps behind him as his partner took up the chase in his stead.

Ray Vecchio did not come home and for two hours Fraser puttered around – dried off Dief, showered, cleaned the bathroom, called the station on the off chance either Ray showed up there. Finally after ten, the phone rang, and Fraser lunged for it.

“Stupid cat, stupid stupid cat!”

“You found him?”

“Daisy did, under some boxes in an alley. Man she would not give up, she just kept going, Frase. Good thing, though, ‘cause he got hit by a car or something.” At Fraser’s sharp exclamation, Ray talked faster. “He’s alive. But I’m at the emergency vet clinic on Monroe Drive, waiting to see how bad he got hurt. Stupid cat!”

Fraser realized he was holding himself against the couch with one hand, his relief giving way to exhaustion. “Thank you, Ray, thank you.”

“Not me, it was Daisy. She dug through those boxes; I would have walked right by Mack and never known it. But hey, break it to Vecchio easy.”

“Ray isn’t here.”

“What? Where the hell is he?”

“I don’t know. He’s not answering his cell phone, and he hasn’t been down to the station. I called Francesca but she says he did not go home.” She had, in fact, laughed caustically at the idea and reminded Fraser what Ray’s status was with the family. She then begged him to tell Ray to call her.

“Shit shit shit. Stupid cat!”

“I’ll drive down with your car. Will Machiavelli be able to come home?”

“That’s a serious negative, Frase. Looked like he broke a leg, at least. I don’t know what else. They’re working on him now.”

“Damnation.”

“Stupid cat.”

When Fraser made it to the clinic, Ray was fatigued and upset, and Daisy no better, so Fraser drove them home and tucked everyone into bed without asking for specifics about Machiavelli’s discovery. Diefenbaker and Daisy settled in Ray’s room in a show of solidarity. Fraser crawled into bed next to Ray and dreaded the following working day, and spared some thought as he drifted off to sleep to where in the hell Ray Vecchio was.

\--------------

“Not here. I asked Welsh, and he asked ME where he is. Apparently Vecchio called in this morning and left a message telling him he was taking a few personal days.”

Fraser sat at his desk, struck dumb. “Without his clothes?”

“He’s got plastic, he can buy clothes. He’s worse than a chick, it makes him happy to buy clothes.” Ray snarled over the phone. “Maybe he’s gone on a shopping trip to the Armani Mecca in New York.”

“No.” Fraser said simply, uncertain of what to do.

Ray sighed, and Fraser could feel him change the subject. “I called the vet, Mack is doing okay. Broken leg, internal injuries, lost lots of blood, but he’s recovering well. According to the vet his leg will be in a cast and he’ll have to be kenneled or supervised 24/7 for four to six WEEKS.”

“Oh dear _Lord_…” Fraser groaned.

“Yeah. But good news is they said I can pick him up on the way home.”

“That seems quick.” Fraser picked at the report in front of him, then caught himself, embarrassed. Now was not the time to foster destructive nervous habits.

“Not much they can do for him now he’s stabilized. Cat’s don’t react well to pain meds anyway, so there’s no reason to keep him there. They’ve got a card board box I can use to carry him, but can you get a wire crate for him from the pet store today?”

“He has a crate.”

“Not one he can see out of much. Those plastic ones, they suck for visibility. Since he’s going to be spending so much time in it, I want him to, you know, have a view.”

“Ah. Of course. Yes, I’ll pick one up.”

When he hung up, he considered the matter for a minute. He stared at the backlog of work on his desk, then looked at the spot in front of his desk where he spent so much time standing during Thatcher’s tenure. Knowing exactly what she would do in this situation, and finally understanding _why_, he called Turnbull in, explained what happened, and sent the tearful and emotionally distraught constable (“oh the poor kitty!”) to buy a suitable crate. He was less than surprised when Turnbull returned over an hour later with a crate, three different beddings, two brands of cat nip (“organic, sir!”), assorted stuffed toys, and a week-by-week cat calendar.

“Do you really think he will be much concerned with the date, Constable?” Fraser asked, turning the glossy calendar over in his hands.

“Oh yes sir, when you have a cast on, nothing brings more joy than to count down the days until it comes off.” Turnbull leaned in as if revealing a state secret. “They are SO itchy.” He paused and pointed at the photos, smiling broadly. “And this has assorted photos of different cats, so he won’t feel lonely. I thought of buying him the recent _Cat Today_ magazine but I remember Detective Vecchio saying that Machiavelli prefers the comics.” Turnbull nodded solemnly, and Fraser once again was left helplessly splashing around in the younger Constable’s bizarre wake.

Fraser tried to apologize to Ray for the extravagant purchases, but Ray just said ‘thanks’ when he got home with Machiavelli and proceeded to take over the dining table. He set up the crate, tried out the beddings, and presented the toys to Machiavelli for approval, cooing the whole time. Daisy paced back and forth endlessly behind him, but did not make any move towards the injured cat. Ray finished by circling the date the cast was due to come off in the calendar book and propped it open to the current week, where Machiavelli could see it. Not that the cat was looking, as the drugs the vet gave him were still running strong through his system. He mostly dozed.

“Where shall we put the crate?” Fraser asked, butting into the proceedings in hopes of wrapping things up quickly.

“Here for now. On Vecchio’s bed at night, and then over on the desk by the window during the day while were gone. Vet said to move him around so he doesn’t get bored.” He nodded in satisfaction as Machiavelli’s head thudded down on the bedding, then he look up. “Heard from him?”

“Ray? No. Not a word.”

“I’ll get Debbie to run a trace on his credit cards tomorrow, see where…”

“No you will not. That is abusing your position for personal gain. Ray Vecchio obviously wants to be left alone right now, and we’ll respect his wishes.” Fraser said, hoping he sounded authoritative and, dare he hope, _alpha_.

“Fine.” Ray grumbled and stomped into the kitchen. Fraser barely had time to intercept him before they ended up with macaroni and cheese for dinner. Again.

In the days that followed, Fraser began to wonder who the alpha really was. As Machiavelli started to recover, Ray took him out of the cage and would sit on the couch with him in his arms as if holding a baby, and read the comics out loud to him. Daisy – and by extension, Diefenbaker – were all but yoked to the crate the cat lived in, guarding it as if they were the Queen’s personal Beefeaters. Machiavelli had only to mew and the majority of the household was on alert, plying him with food or catnip or a friendly snuffle (Daisy’s contribution). Fraser wondered if it would be inappropriate, given his elevated rank, to start sleeping at the Consulate again.

Vecchio stayed gone, and Fraser tried to convince himself that it was all fine and that he was not worried. The attempt was unsuccessful, and by Thursday Fraser was calling the office of the therapist Ray had been seeing. He left a message for her, as she was with a patient, but she returned his call before lunch.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss his case with you, Inspector Fraser.” She was polite and professional, but her voice was firm.

“Understood, Dr. Grey. However Ray has simply disappeared; he hasn’t returned home in over four days, and hasn’t even called to check on his cat. I’m worried for his well being. Will you at least convey to him, when you see him, that I would appreciate hearing from him soon?”

“I can tell you that he had his usual session with me on Tuesday, here at my office, and I fully expect him next week. I will certainly pass along your message at that time, if you like.”

“Thank you for your reassuring news, Doctor. I appreciate your assistance. We’re…we’re very worried about him, you understand.”

“Yes, I do.” There was a pause, but she spoke before he could end the call. “‘We’, I take it, being you and your partner, Detective Kowalski?”

“Ah. Yes. And Diefenbaker.” He nodded at the phone. “Oh, and Daisy as well. Machiavelli, of course, and Turnbull does seem…”

“You have a variety of pets, there.” The counselor laughed while Fraser related the word ‘pet’ to ‘Turnbull’ and came up blank. “…if there is nothing else, Inspector?”

Fraser blinked, coming out his reverie. “No, that is all. Thank you.”

It was reassuring that Ray had attended his counseling session, but it did not fully put Fraser’s mind at ease. The matter was dogging him day and night, as he swung between the idea of tracking down Ray at all costs, or leaving him alone to deal with matters on his own. He stopped discussing the issue with Ray, who was not conflicted at all about his right to use every resource at the CPD’s command to track Ray down. He claimed it was for Machiavelli’s benefit, and it was reflective of Fraser’s state of mind that he almost believed it. That Diefenbaker was siding with Ray was of no help whatsoever.

On Friday, Fraser left to stop by the emergency vet clinic and pick up Machiavelli’s file for transfer to his primary vet, which by default was the same vet that tended Diefenbaker. The receptionist handed him the file and Fraser looked through it briefly, as unlike human medical records, these were not sealed. He saw a brief note in Ray’s handwriting, describing the condition he found Machiavelli and where he had been located – Ray wrote it out like a criminal report, and Fraser smiled. Some habits were impossible to break. As he closed the file and wished the receptionist a good day, Fraser plugged all the pieces together, and drew up short. He knew exactly where that cross street was, and he knew exactly why Machiavelli had gone there. He nearly bowled over a little old lady and her Pekinese as he dashed out the door and ran down the street, aiming for one specific room at the Hotel California.

Fraser knocked on the door to 2409 uneasily. Ray opened it and stared at him, without a fake mustache this time, and indeed without clothes. He was wearing a bathrobe. Fraser stared back in turn, and realized that Ray looked unkempt, as if he had not slept or bathed in days.

“You found me.”

“I was inspired to check here.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Ray turned and walked into to room, leaving the door open. Fraser followed him in, and his nose quickly resolved the question of whether Ray had taken a shower recently: he had not.

Fraser stood in the dim room. It looked clean but lived in, so Ray had obviously let housecleaning in to straighten up regularly. “Are you alright, Ray?”

“Do I look alright?”

“No.”

“You’re good, Benny, never could get anything by you.” Ray rubbed his hands together and stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room.

“Ray’s suggestion upset you this much?”

“You are not my therapist, and we are not going to talk about that.”

Fraser nodded, then licked his lip, and caught Ray staring at his mouth. “Ray…”

“Stop. Just stop, okay?” Ray tightened his bathrobe and sat on the edge of the bed. “Okay, yeah, Kowalski got to me. Everything got to me. My job, my life, shooting people, kissing people…”

“Give yourself some credit, Ray. You are putting it all back together. Surely your therapist has pointed out the success you’ve had lately.”

There was a long pause while Fraser held his breath, and Ray looked thoughtful for a while, but then turned and smiled at him, his eyes clearing from dull to bright green.

“You come to take me home?”

Fraser chewed on his lip. “Which home, Ray? Do you know where you belong?” He refrained from asking, ‘do you know who you are?’, but he thought his expression might say as much.

“Our home, Benny.”

“You decided this when, exactly?” Fraser toyed with his hat, another nervous tick he could not drive out of his psyche with a sledgehammer.

Ray looked away, trying to appear stern and thoughtful, but Fraser saw the smile that played over his lips. “When I opened the door and you were there. I wasn’t really waiting for anyone, I was just sitting here going stir crazy, me and Armando fighting it out. I picked up the phone twenty times to order a hooker, Benny.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” Ray scrubbed his head again, and Fraser tried to disregard the musky male odor that came off him, forced himself to not think of what his skin would taste like right now.

“But I heard that knock, and I knew you came for me. Not Armando, ME. Like family, Benny, you came for me. No one else did. No one else would.”

Fraser genuinely contemplated finding a way to hit himself, then crawl back to Ray Kowalski and beg forgiveness and a good ‘kick in the head.’ He berated himself repeatedly in the time it took to nod and smile, wishing that some day he would develop the good sense needed to listen to his partners when they were right. Then another thought came crashing down.

“Oh dear.”

“What? What?” Ray’s face fell. “Oh. Kowalski’ll give you trouble about me? I get it, Benny, I…”

“No no, it’s Machiavelli.”

“Mack?”

“He’s…been injured.”

Ray jumped up. “That damn dog! What did she do? I swear to God, if…”

“No! No, it wasn’t Daisy, in fact Daisy and Dief have been very protective of Mack since he came home from the vet.”

Ray paled and opened his mouth, but Fraser forged on. “It was entirely my fault. After you left Machiavelli was inconsolable; Ray tried reasoning with him, but it was useless. When we went for our evening walk to the park he…he dashed out.” Fraser explained everything from their desperate search for the cat, to Ray and Daisy finding him, to the vet’s mostly positive prognosis. “I’m so sorry, Ray. Perhaps if I had tried harder to make him understand…”

Ray was shaken, and sat down. “No, it’s my fault. I told him we were moving, that…” He shook his head. “I was mad, at you, Kowalski, life. Hell, how else would I end up here?” He looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. “When I left here I walked blindly for hours. I thought I was going to end up back at the apartment, or in the lake, but I stopped here. Last time I was in this room with you, it was like the beginning of the end. What a joke. I had no idea…I had no idea.”

Fraser was uncertain what Ray was talking about, so just nodded instead.

“Aside from one trip to talk to my therapist, who thinks maybe I’ve gone insane, I’ve spent four days here, trying to figure things out.”

“And what have you figured out?”

“That I’m not going to figure anything out here.” Ray looked up. “I thought it would be some kind of closure, coming back here. But it’s…not.”

Fraser nodded again, still unable to think of anything profound or even helpful.

“…Kowalski found Mack?”

Fraser paused, but shook his head. “Daisy actually found him. See was determined, according to Ray, and he would have missed where Mack had crawled if not for her persistence. Two hours searching in the rain. They found him and took him to the emergency vet.”

“Guess I owe the old girl an apology.”

“I’m sure a scoop of pistachio ice cream will work wonders.” Fraser nodded solemnly, and Ray almost laughed. After a moment, Fraser decided to give Ray the whole truth.

“It was Ray’s note in Machiavelli’s medical file that made me realize you were here.”

“Yeah?” Ray squinted at him, knowing enough to understand that Fraser was going somewhere with the change in conversation.

Fraser nodded, thumbing the file that he was surprised to find still in his hands. “Machiavelli was two blocks over, on Tharpe. I think he was trying to get to you.” He said the words softly, knowing they would land like a blow. He looked over at Ray, who was emotionally shaken by the news and winding himself up.

“I gotta go, I gotta…”

Fraser breathed in carefully and put the file down on the low dresser. “You need to shower, and shave. I’ll gather your things.”

“Got no things, Benny, just came straight here…I left, I left him, I left you…” Ray bounced forward and Fraser grabbed his arms.

“Machiavelli is alright, Ray. Dief and Daisy and Ray are watching him, and he will recover almost full use of his leg. He’s waiting for you, as are Ray and the dogs.” Fraser tightened his grip on Ray’s arms. “I’m taking you home.”

Ray put his hand on Fraser’s shoulder, and there was a brief spark between them, just a chill that ran through Fraser’s body, but Ray pulled back. “Benny, I…thanks.”

Fraser nodded and let go. Wordlessly Ray moved past him and into the bathroom. Less than thirty minutes later, they were walking out of the hotel together.

\----------------

“Ray…?”

“On the couch, Frase. Mack was feeling wonky.” Ray called from the living room, right before Diefenbaker and Daisy launched themselves at Ray, who had come in behind him.

“HEY! Down boy, down! Watch my shirt! Hey, is this my girl? Yeah…oof…” Ray fell to the side and landed against the wall as Daisy rump-wagged into his legs, barking and shoving protectively.

Fraser walked around the chaos and into the living room, where Ray’s spiky hair poked up over the couch as he tried to look backwards.

“You found him.”

“Yes.” Fraser answered and stood by the couch, looking down at Ray who had Machiavelli cradled like a precious newborn in his arms. The cat’s encased leg stuck out oddly, marring the picture.

“Nice you could make it, Vecchio!”

“I’m not there yet, your portable pet rock has me trapped.”

Fraser stepped forward. “Daisy, let Ray go. He’s not leaving again, you can release him.”

Daisy grumbled and remained motionless. Ray leaned over her, bringing himself down to head level.

“Listen, I was stupid, and I’m sorry. Thank you for finding Mack, and I promise, I’m not leaving again. Except for work.”

Daisy gave him a blank look.

“And ice cream. I’ll leave to get ice cream. Pistachio, right?” Ray waved his hands between them as if negotiating a business deal. With a yip of pleasure Daisy pushed off from where she had backed Ray into the corner and trapped him by sitting on his feet

“These dogs could give extortion lessons to Don Corleone.” Ray said as he walked towards the couch. He stopped and took a long look at Machiavelli, then sat down on the couch next to Ray, running a long arm over his shoulders. With his other hand he began stroking Machiavelli’s head, and he leaned into talk softly at the cat in hushed tones.

Fraser had prepared himself for fighting, for bickering, for arguing, but not for this. Not for his Rays to sit together on the couch, matched and relaxed, fitting together comfortably. Words and emotions fled with his reason and he stood in the middle of the room staring, wondering if he was going to spend the rest of his life underestimating his partners. They were fussing over the cat and did not even see him.

“You get him the organic catnip? I don’t want him eating pesticides.”

“Do I look that irresponsible? Huh?…Shut up. Turnbull got the catnip, so yeah, it’s organic.”

“Careful of his head.”

“I’ve been holding him all week like this while you’ve been MIA. He’s fine. Quit bitching.”

“I had some things to figure out, okay? Don’t give me grief, it’s my cat that got hurt because of this.”

Ray gave him a critical look. “Yeah, and it was me and Frase here to pick up the pieces and make it all right again.”

Ray sat back in surprise and looked at him, then nodded slowly. He tightened his arm over ray’s shoulders. “I owe you, Kowalski. For finding him. For…”

“Yeah? Then shut up and thank me.” Ray stuck his chin out and his mouth twitched in open dare, and Fraser held his breath, his common sense yelling at him to stop this before it all went haywire again. Instead, Ray leaned over and pressed Ray back into the couch, careful not to dislodge the dozing cat, and kissed him.

“Ray…” The name left Fraser’s mouth, barely more than a whisper, and went unheard.

Ray pulled back, and smiled down at Ray on the couch, who looked stunned.

“Didn’t think you’d do it.”

“I’ll try anything once, Kowalski.”

Fraser coughed. “I think that was twice. Technically.”

The Rays both threw him stubborn looks, then turned back to each other.

“So we’re doing this?” Ray asked, adjusting Machiavelli who was starting to wake up from all the jostling.

“Yeah, I think we are.”

“Because, you know, I’m not cool with the whole picking up tricks on the side thing.”

“Ray…” Fraser scolded, but the hard look Ray Vecchio gave him stopped the words in his mouth.

“I get it, Kowalski. And you know what?”

“What?” Ray answered defensively, pulling Mack to his chest in what Fraser realized was a protective move.

“I’m not cool with it either. Not one goddamn bit.” Ray leaned over and put one hand on Ray’s knee. “You know how I feel about Benny. That’s old news. What maybe you don’t know is that this? Here? You? Are family. The only family I got right now. I am _not_ Armando: this means everything to me. Everything.” He squeezed Ray’s knee, then let go and waited for a response. Fraser felt left out of the dynamic, but was unsure of what to do, so stood by silently while the Rays tested the waters.

“Yeah, I get that. But it’s all of us or nothing. No playing favorites. You’re good with that, Vecchio?”

“I don’t know yet. Only one way to find out.” He leaned in to kiss Ray again, but Fraser finally found the strength to clear his throat. Both Rays stopped and looked over at him.

He looked carefully at both of them in turn, but ended up locking eyes with Ray Vecchio. He was not even sure – as both Rays so clearly were – what it was they were negotiating, and his best guess had his heart hammering in his chest. It was too good, far too good, better than anything he had dreamed of, and so naturally he doubted it. “You have to be sure, Ray. This is too important to me.”

“Go on, Vecchio, convince him.” Ray shoved at him, and Ray stood up but paused to look down at Ray and the cat. Ray nodded up at him, and Ray turned to walk over to Fraser, who held his breath.

“It’s me, Benny. Not Armando, not anyone but me.” They looked into each other’s eyes again, and Fraser was relieved to see only his friend there. “I still got a ways to go, you know that? Still not sure about everything. Been thinking of quitting the force again, finding something else to do. I’ve got no real plans right now. But this? I want this, Benny. I need this.”

Fraser nodded and solemnly wrapped his arms around Ray, and pulled him in close. They stood in the embrace for a moment, then Fraser felt long, warm fingers over his jaw, tipping his head, and finally the press of unfamiliar lips. “Ray…”

“Yeah, Benny. Me too.” Ray pulled him into a firmer kiss, sealing their lips together for a glorious moment before Fraser started thinking again. He shifted, and ducked his head back.

“You and Ray?” He whispered the question, and Ray laughed.

“He’s good for me; he’s taking me as I am. We click. We both love you. We’ll figure out the rest. We’re your partners, remember? Trust us.” Ray moved them back into the kiss and Fraser finally gave up, flexing his arms to tighten the lock between them, and Ray groaned into his mouth.

“Damn, that’s hot.”

Fraser heard the comment as if from a distance, and pulled back, blinking in confusion. Ray kept holding on to him but turned his head towards the couch.

“Not here for your amusement, Kowalski. You in or out?”

“Christ, gimme a sec, I gotta put the cat up.”

There followed the most unromantic jostling Fraser could have imagined while they tried to get to the bedroom. As they carried his crate back into Ray’s bedroom, Machiavelli complained about not getting to finish the comics (according to the Rays); when they went to shut their bedroom door, Daisy complained that she was being left out of the pack dynamics and sat down in the doorway, immovable; Diefenbaker complained at every step that if Fraser was getting to fuck, he should too, and stared pointedly at Daisy’s rump.

“Tell me it isn’t always going to be this difficult.” Ray said, unbuttoning his shirt and shaking his head.

“Vecchio, it is ALWAYS going to be this difficult.” Ray groaned, falling backwards onto the bed.

“I meant the animals. You? Are easy.” He stopped and leaned against the dresser, his shirt open, smirking at Ray on the bed. Fraser finally got the door shut despite Daisy’s interference, and rested his head against it. Ray propped himself up on his elbows, his legs dangling off the bed.

“You okay there, Ben?”

“Yes.” Fraser closed his eyes, wondering if this was all a mistake. Sex was not worth this awkwardness. He zeroed in on thinking about the dynamics of this, second-guessing what his body wanted, speculating whether the casual attitude exuded by both Rays to this matter was reflective of a casual heart. “Just…perhaps it is the idealist in me, but I rather pictured a more, ah, romantic encounter.”

“Hey, I’m Italian. I can do romantic.”

Fraser felt a long finger trail down his spine and he looked over his shoulder into deep, passionate green eyes. “Don’t worry, Benny, I got you…” The hand wrapped around his chest and pulled him backwards, walking him towards the bed. There, Ray spread his legs and opened his arms and Fraser fell into him with a slight push at his back. The dynamics, he decided, would be worked out as they went along.

##########


	3. Epilogue

**One Year Later**

Ray carefully checked each one, like he did every morning and every evening and on the days he took long lunches and before they sat down for dinner and during commercial breaks. He picked it up, inspected it, and put it back. They all got equal time.

“I’m sure Dief or Daisy would let us know if there was a problem, say, if one of them grew an extra leg.” Fraser said blandly from the doorway of the utility room.

“I am like their godfather, okay? It’s my job to make sure everything is just right for them, that they are all happy.” He picked up the next puppy.

Ray walked in behind Fraser and looked at the litter. “They’re getting fat.”

“They are puppies, that’s their job. Fat and happy.” Ray smiled beatifically and tickled the belly of the little male pup in his hand. Fraser could not stop himself from smiling, even if he wanted to.

“Well they better be happy, we bought a damn house for them.” Ray grumbled, and walked over to check the clothes in the dryer, staying clear of Daisy’s nest. In the chaos of the birthing, he ended up with afterbirth on his Armani slacks and had forgiven no one as of yet. Fraser held out hope.

“Actually, Ray, the house is more of an investment, and you were always the one complaining about having to take Dief and Daisy to the park for a walk twice a day.”

“Yeah, despite the fact that YOU never walked them.” Ray said snippily, picking up another puppy. Daisy watched his hands carefully, trusting but still protective. He was the only one of them she allowed to manhandle the puppies in the days after their birth, and even now he could get closer to the litter than anyone else, including Dief.

Ray folded clothes, casting furtive, affectionate looks towards Ray on the floor with the puppies, blushing when Fraser caught him at it.

“Seems a shame, though.” Ray sighed, putting down the last puppy and scratching Daisy’s chin.

“What?” Fraser stepped closer, wondering if Ray saw a problem with one of the litter.

“Well, this big two story house, nice area of town. Decent yard. Dog. Half-wolf. Puppies.” He trailed off, not looking at them. “Good schools.”

Ray dropped the socks he was holding and turned to Fraser, who just barely stopped himself from stepping backwards into the ironing board. They stared at each other in shock and then looked at Ray, who was still petting Daisy, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“I mean, we got good jobs. Who wouldn’t want Fraser as a dad, anyway? It’s not like we use the other two bedrooms for anything. Lots of kids need dads, and here? Three dads, ready made. We could do it. We could do it right.”

Fraser desperately fell into parade rest and looked towards Ray for guidance, but he was busy flapping socks in the air, frustrated and beyond words and rolling his eyes.

“Kids love puppies,” Ray announced from his spot on the floor, as if that explained everything. The puppies crawling over his legs all seemed to agree.

########


	4. A Thorough Inspection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At what point does a house become a home? A little pre-epilogue vignette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, in a much reduced version, written as a gift!fic for a friend who was having a bad week. I think she's drifted out of my life but at the time we were friends and she really liked "Like Cats and Dogs" so I wrote this little "pre-epilogue, post-story coda" hoping to make her smile. I honestly thought it had vanished into the email ether but it turned up on a jump drive earlier this week, so I decided to flesh it out a little and post it, mostly for amusement's sake. That is all.

"Perfect."

"I don't…" Fraser fidgeted in the kitchen while Ray opened and closed cabinets, obviously considering how best to stock the shelves with his cooking supplies.

"Yeah, it's great." Ray stood in the doorway with his hands in his armpits, warding off the chill of the empty, unheated house.

"Well I did see some rust on the water heater, and…" Fraser pointed past both Rays towards the basement.

"Hey! Think we could put a doggie door there?" Ray bounced by and studied the door leading to the back yard, although Fraser would hardly grace the scrap of land with that much disctinction.

"I do not want my cat getting out, Kowalski. Anyway a doggie door big enough for your house horse would let every juvee the neighborhood in."

"Yeah, hunh. Okay. Maybe one of those electric ones?"

"Forget it. Yard's big enough for a run, anyway. We can put a fenced in area right over there…" Ray walked across the room and slung an arm over Ray's shoulders while they looked out, a study in opposites -- worn leather and warm cashmire, fierce boots and stylish loafers.

Fraser coughed, trying to distract his own waywards thoughts while briging his Rays back to the subject at hand. "I thought the yard rather small, in fact 'miniscule' comes to mind…"

"Yeah, I see it. Right there." Ray's spikey head bounced once in agreement, staring at the spot where Ray was pointing.

"Where the ground isn't level?" Fraser frowned. "And we'd need to shore up the…"

"Frase, it's a yard. For dogs. It doesn't need to be level. Anyway they'll love it."

"They'll certainly love the mud. Perhaps we should reconsider that nice house on Fairview, with the hedgerows..."

Ray grunted. "Benny's right, we'll need to put some landscaping in."

"It's fall! It's mud! It's…"

"Then you and your ratty jeans can hose the dogs off. Every. Single. Day."

"…landscaping's good. I can see it."

"I'm still concerned about the deterioration I saw in the fascia…" Fraser tried pointing again.

"Yeah, they're gonna scar up the floor with their nails..."

"No, Ray, a 'fascia' is..."

"...We'll need some carpets. I know an Oriental rug dealer, we can get the real thing for a third of the price."

"Nothing in the living room."

"Don't want it to get in the way of your Astaire routine? It's a living room, it needs a rug."

"Didn't hear you complaining about my tango last night." Ray swivled his hips.

Fraser blushed, and coughed again, suspecting that the cold temperature was drying out his throat. "A suitable dance floor is not a solely valid reason for buying a house. I think we should inspect the attic for…" Fraser stepped backwards in the small breakfast nook as the Rays started circling each other like ravenous wolves.

"No rug in the front room."

"No doggie door."

"The back shed? For my bike."

"You don't have a bike."

"I want a bike."

"Fine, I'll get you a twelve speed."

They kept crowding up against each other as they argued. "I get a Harley, and you get the whole damn basement for your stupid pool table."

"And a rug in the living room."

"No! Hey, watch those hands..."

"You know the master bed room's got a wood floor too. Maybe you need to try some of your fancy footwork out before we make a decision, here."

"Nnnrgh."

Fraser rubbed the back of his neck while they started kissing. "Don't you think...that is, perhaps a thorough inspection, I mean, of the house..."

"Yeah, yeah…mmmm…hey! Where are you going?"

"Benny thinks we need to check the attic."

"I'm not doing it in the attic."

"The master bedroom is on the way to the attic."

"Yeah? Oh…mmmm…hnmph…yeah…Vechhio, shit, yeah…"

Fraser tried to focus his eyes as the Rays walked, no, slithered through the kitchen. He wondered if his light headedness indicated a lingering asbestos problem, or lead in the paint. The house was fairly old, after all. Catching his breath, he realized he was alone.

"Ray…Ray…Ray?"

"Upstairs." Their voices echoed over the wooden floors.

#####


End file.
